It’s a tall sailing-ship on the ocean, 

Still, anchored, waiting – not to be broken – 

Or smashed on rocks – run aground.

A grey shape, visible in the fog – no sound.

Or, imaginably, if I listen closely – beyond the hush – 

Seawater claps the vessel’s hull and waves swoosh on the shore.

Sensible sea captain, dutiful crew, waits – no rush…

The sun is sinking, a gull calls, and the reef makes no score.

Explorers or pirates?  We’ll see…

I write in my log book – a note to me – 

“Tomorrow – build lighthouse for sea dogs.”

But in the morning there is no sea, no ship, and no fog.

“Mysterious Visitor” 

Windows frame a world of white

Everything erased from sight

Where are flowers, birds and trees?

Lost among the misty seas

Wispy waves drown out all sound

Silence shrouds the cloudy ground

Claws of cold try to get in

Goosebumps prickle on my skin

What’s that scary shape I spy?

Creeping close, a real bad guy

Frosty fingers haze their face

My poor heart begins to race

Then a sly grin carves the gloom

Quickly, I run from the room

Feeling brave, no need to hide

Open up the front door wide

‘Gran! That must have been a slog

Walking through this horrid fog.’