Cognizance
It was never in my rider:
these plumes of damp mist
with their bluish grey drift
– poised like a spiteful tsunami.
An encore of unknown dread,
when as a child, my eyes
burned beneath horned prongs
of ancient trees – outstaying
the dead on a seared hilltop.
These things I knew – long before
human nuance or pageantry,
or of tiptoed paths cutting
a dash to hidden ways.
On that porch, I knew in advance
what you could only guess at;
fumbling for your lines as dusk fell.
©️ Orion Foote
Visions of Orion Poetry 