A December Fog

Droplets of fog hung, expectant,
in autumn air scented
by composting leaves.
The dog kept to his duties,
marking anew a territory
that, to his doggy mind,
stretched far beyond
this strip of road.

Time stopped.

The droplets are metaphors
for the contents
of the poisoned cornucopia
that spews

fake news, hate, bigotry, manipulation,
tribalism, nativism, exceptionalism,
entitlement, greed, cruelty,
and other rotted products
of a devolving species

daily on the paths of our lives.

Dog trots happily
on our path
through this young December day,
while across the bay
a pallid sun
brushes away the fog.