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Centerstage

Fog descends like a stage curtain
Hiding all but the main characters,
The closest hemlock, cedar, vine maple,
From view,
Creating for these a lightbox
For stand-out photography
Or perfect imprint on mind’s
Silver halide. 

As the fog rolls in further,
embracing my home, suddenly
I exist within its lightbox,
Centerstage nearly unaware:
Just my room,
Varied leaves outside my window,
The chickadee perched on closest branch,
And me— 

Centerstage in a bounded world
No one can see.

***

Photo by Studio Pizza on Unsplash

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