i sit on a mountain top
wondering
wondering why
and I get cold
then the mountain throws me off
the fog grabs me
holds me
the wind blows
I dance in the fog
not a stately dance
nor a rhythmic dance
but one like a puppet
with strings of fog
jerking me
and i know
not why
not how
not who
not even if
yet, i still wonder
and dance in the fog
what else is there
i like with strings of fog jerking me
ReplyDeletespring haiku and tanka
an intriguing poems ... love the imagery!
ReplyDeleteNow that would drive you wild, but like zongrik I quite like the fog swirling around me.
ReplyDeleteLost in the whirl of the world, without a care. You're right, what else is there? Love it.:)
ReplyDeleteI like this...the fog of not knowing but wondering nevertheless...
ReplyDeleteA personal thanks to those that have spent a moment with my words...I could only be happier if we could tip a glass of sunshine together and toast the world.
ReplyDelete