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The Journey to the West

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Wednesday, August 23, 2017

A Prose Poem in Tribute to the Intense Fog of the Maritimes

The sea is no more than sound this morning, advancing or retreating, I have no idea, as the fog holds sway from just off the shoreline to a horizon unseen, all despite the sun's deeply discounted glare.

From the interplay of what is seen and inferred, obscurity gives way to occasional clarity, through the compounding mix of fire water and air.


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Tide, wind and fog are the controlling elements of life in Nova Scotia.  Tide becomes the major player along the upper reaches of the Bay of Fundy, while wind and fog prevail over most of the rest of the coastline.  The fog may be paramount in its influence both in what it conceals and reveals.  Elizabeth Bishop who was native to these parts described it this way:


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The world is a mist
And then the world is
Minute and vast and clear 

Hard to say it more perfectly than that.  But (if you'll forgive me for adding) once you surrender to this landscape, don't be surprised if lighthouses soon begin to figure prominently in your dreams.




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