The Poetry of Alfhild Berg Salls
The world looks soft-like a marshmallow-
As the fog which should have lifted by noon
hangs on above the lake

blotting out horizons.
Even the birds' songs are muted
as if they wonder whether the day

has rushed on to dusk.
A fish leaps up snagging an insect tidbit
and dropping back

with a splashy bang!
I feel suspended like the droplets in that
cloud of fog.
I am impelled to respect the stillness.