I’ve been there, in the December fog and silence, and have cherished the cheery lights…..You have brought it to life, Gael.
When I was young, December rolled in on a blanket of fog. Thick, wet and gray. It clung to the ground. If it let go, it would die. It would become as lifeless and indistinct as the barren ash trees it surrounded. It had the ability to reduce the power of the sun so that, during the day, the world was hidden in a single, ashen tone. Night brought blackness. No stars, no moon. Nothing.
The fog dulled your ability to see or hear. It dampened your ability to feel. It left a smell and taste of dankness that could only be equaled in my grandmother’s Minnesota basement. That smell permeated everything. Like the gray of those long-ago days when you feared the ghosts in that basement.
But the fog couldn’t dampen the childhood excitement of a “BIG DAY”. Like celebrations of magnitude all over the world, of any faith…
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Lee Dunn has been writing since the age of 18, but found that work got in the way for the ensuing 48 years. In his home town of Toronto, Ontario, Canada, he reveled in his independence at an early age, and spent as much time as he could exploring the city’s Arts scene. He was introduced to poetry and prose by the works of two literary giants, namely J.R.R. Tolkien and J.W. Lennon and thence fell in love with the written word. His work includes poetry, short fiction, and personal essays, and ranges in theme from the surreal to the horrific, nostalgic, and themes on the human condition. He has been published on Spillwords.com, The Dark Poets Club, Journal of Undiscovered Poets, Crepe & Penn Literary magazine, and the Shelburne Free Press.