Today’s sonnet was written during last year’s period of intensifying stress. I think it was also based on the truth: the stars were gorgeous one morning before my 5:30 a.m. workout; when I left at 6:30, they were completely covered by fog. And if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s overthinking the symbolism of basic weather patterns.
Originally written September 11, 2018
This morning, everything seemed crystal-clear.
Orion, Heaven’s hunter, prowled the sky,
Newly returned after his long goodbye;
I saw him there and knew I need not fear.
But then the fog rolled in—the light obscured.
Its tendrils slowly crept into my soul.
My hope they clouded, and my joy they stole,
And I, feeling afraid and insecure,
So cold here in this mist, and so alone,
Forgetting that I’m known and I am loved,
Could only trust the stars still shone above,
And see that fog holds beauty of its own.
The fog hides things both marvelous and fair;
Though I can’t see them, yet I know they’re there.