Sunday, August 24, 2008
The fog began at Bog Hollow.
Because it hadn't been there a few moments before,
I figured it would soon lift,
but it stayed as long as I remained.
I followed the road up into the hill.
The shorter way is through the wallow where the cows have made a trail,
but I'd done that once.
I knew where I wanted to go.
I had planned for this,
familiarized myself with this tangle of wild pastures, the cow trails,
so I could be east of the farmstead when the sun came over the mountain.
I had planned on sun.