Lavender Fog Poem by Judith Vriesema

Early morning fog slowly drifts in from the sea
through open windows
to touch alarm clocks precariously perched on bedside tables,
and to gently whisper into dreams behind closed eyelids;
then to toss aside sheets scented by the sea air
to awaken thoughts that compose their own creative symphony as you sleep ever so peacefully with your mouth slightly ajar.
The fog drifts on through the house that murmurs with conversations from the past:
strange voices,
people from long ago who sometimes make you smile.
The kitchen is still except for the smell of coffee that drifts in from fishing boats begining to paint the sea with their own abstract patterns.
Seagulls rush to pull the clouds into billowing parachutes of lavender light.
The sea breeze slowly tangles curtains that are hung upon clothes lines within gardens of scented roses and children's toys.
Wood ferns reach for the fog and kiss the droplets of water that fall upon them.
Love awakens you,
and you wonder why you smell lavender drifting through the air while telephones ring and morning awakens your world;
a random thought that tosses your hair as you tie yourself into your morning suit and run out the door waving good-bye to lavender scented sheets.