FOG

He loves to walk in the morning fog…he loves to look around

to feel the mist upon his face….and watch the cloud hover over the ground.

This morning’s felt a little different…he could not help denying

there was a faint sound, somewhat muffled….as if the fog was crying.

“What’s the matter fog?” he asked. “Why are you so blue?”

Why are you so sad today?  Is there anything I can do?”

“Thank you, no.” the fog whispered for the fog never talks too loud.

“I am just a morning fog…when I’d much rather be a cloud.”

“But you are a cloud.” The young boy said. “the best cloud of any around.”

It just so happens you’re a cloud that floats above the ground.”

“But I don’t want to float above the ground,” the cloud said as he pointed to the sky.

I want to be up there…I want to soar…I want to fly.”

The young boy smiled.  "But don’t you see that is the wonder of you.” he said

“You make the morning beautiful as across the land you spread.”

“You add to the ground a tranquil beauty… but when the sun rises you say goodbye

and you float up to the heavens and add your beauty to the sky.”

“Are you sure?” The fog asked the young boy as he stretched across the land

“I’m sure.” The young boy replied.  “Wait a little while and you will understand.”

“Will you wait here with me?” The fog asked. The young boy nodded his head.

“To see you fly up to the sky.…would be my honor.” he said.

And so they waited there together and the boy enjoyed the mist upon his eyes

and when the sun peeked over the horizon the fog smiled as she danced up to the sky.

“Goodbye fog.” the boy said as the fog brushed against his head.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” the fog cried.

I’ll be waiting, the young boy said.