A Poem I Found and Liked. Not sure who the credit goes to.

The fog lifted itself up from the ground and rises
To encircle me, fill me with the looming sense
Of impeding doom.

Suspended, as if waiting, in quiet anticipation
For better weather, for warmth, for sun,
for dissolution.

The vapor blankets the world beneath its fragile
Weaving, curling, furls
of nothingness.