Coming Home in the Evening

Every evening the same 

fever and bone deep weariness

accompany me home.

Once home my collie

and nature succeed

in luring me out

Tonight in the murky woods

there's a wet, warm fog

wrapping us in mute mist

Do you hear the fog I whisper,

the dog tilts her head but

offers no reply

The fog pulses

reminiscent of some benign

and distant delirium

Do you feel that I ask the air,

and with a grin answer to the dog

The fog has throbbed away my pain.

Home in bed I do not sleep,

I sit alone, smiling

into the darkness.