In enough fog this house
is a treehouse, everything
come in close,
a leaf recoils
from an unseen drop
of rain,
only reaction
visible, here, there,
the leaves ring,
and it’s all too simple
to forget antecedents,
the silence is lazy
-making, the forest
immense, the pines
too water-laden to stir
at all, and maybe it’s
the same with you.
OPTIONAL POETRY 
I’ve been away from WordPress a week or so, so I wanted to catch up on your poetry. No time to do all : ) Always so good. Stanzas four and six are perfect.
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Thanks!!
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