>through judith gap


Trust me when I tell you we slipped through the thinnest fog.There are no photos  to share here because the photos I took from the back seat of my ex-husband’s car couldn’t capture the magic of being the only witness in a stretch of fog. That happens sometimes — a defying moment, shared while enroute to some place else. With someone else. For years to come, we will hear the word, fog, and remember who we shared that moment with. Often, it’s not who we would choose. 
But still: wisp.
Say the word and the four of us who shared the same pre-dawn ride through Judith Gap, will pause for a moment to remember shared glances through rearview mirrors and headrests as we slipped beneath ground cover floating in thin waves four feet above the quiet earth. We’ll remember how we held our breath and how that breath held us. 

About redmitten

author of Cracking Geodes Open, Making Good Use of August, and The Peppermint Bottle. poetry editor for IthacaLit. website: https://toomuchaugust.wordpress.com

4 responses to “>through judith gap

  1. >and how we held our breath – lovely

  2. >"…how that breath held us."poetry

  3. >Hi Sherry,Fog does give a person a breathless component. We strain to see through it, often enjoying the magic of it, and afraid of what is not revealed. But this fog, you describe as a stretch of floating waves, a defying moment, the thinnest of fogs. I can see why it would be difficult to capture with a camera, but it's something you will never forget.

  4. >thanks you ladies! . . .the stretch of floating waves . . . feels good to be held, huh!

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