Sanctuary


“Under Windsor Bridge” by Adolphe Valette, 1912

 

Sanctuary

~

dead calm envelops me

moist morning fog
adrift on the water
wraps ’round me
like a cool blanket

it muffles the sounds
of daybreak’s industry

alone with my thoughts
in peaceful privacy
safe anonymity

the regrets of last night
dim and fade

this brief sanctuary
a soothing balm
so welcome
at the start of this heavy day

~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2012

28 thoughts on “Sanctuary”

  1. I really like…

    alone with my thoughts
    in peaceful privacy
    safe anonymity

    and…

    this brief sanctuary
    a soothing balm
    so welcome
    at the start of this heavy day

    ..nicely done.

  2. I have always loved foggy mornings, evenings too ~ as long as I don’t have to drive. Peaceful and protected is how I feel …… your poem is lovely.

  3. Heavy days are such a burden, but your words feel just like thoughts one has pausing by the water for reflection. Excellent piece!

  4. Almost perfect sir….. But you forgot the ending:

    “and then the line went tought and up strung an 8 pound bass!”

    Only joking Rob….. You set such a wonderful stage it made me think of how a real perfect day of mine would start out, sitting on the boat in early daybreak fog, hearing the muffled flip of a largemouth tail just yonder in the weed patch…. and waiting for that sudden jerk! Then it’s “fire up the griddle Darlin’, breakfast is on the way!”

  5. Gosh, I get so few comments on poetry sent to Magpie anymore, I backed off. Love me some dVerse Poets these days. Nice piece, here, sir; just keep them coming; write your pain.

  6. If the person in this poem is in need of sanctuary, he/she must be accused of some crime. Has this person posted secret govenment memos on the Internet? Does he believe the Dronemaster cannot locate his targeting position in fog? Does e know much of life is conducted in the fog of war? Why didn’t he get laid last night? You tease us with many possibilities. Perhaps we are having more fun than you are?!? LOL

    Thanks for the moment in the mist. Wait! is that the Loch Ness monster rising? Or the Lady of the Land waving the implement of our true destiny at us? Could these be the mists of Avalon? Must everything begin here?

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