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Last Fog at Sunrise by Travers Charron
Last Fog at Sunrise
Travers Charron
If life stretched on forever,
would we still kneel in the wild mint
just to listen to the wind?
It’s the fire burning low
that draws us near.
The song, fading
that makes us sing.
The morning mist lifting
that reveals the deer
in the clearing.
Grief is not just absence–
it’s the overflow
of all we didn’t say,
the touch we postponed,
a life paused too long
on someday.
We are each
a breath on glass,
a shadow just beginning to fall.
One day,
we’ll rise
as the last fog at sunrise–
already vanishing
as the light arrives.
Sof if you love,
say so.
If something stirs you,
listen.
The morning comes quickly.
And the fog
never stays.
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit rembrandtscure.substack.com
More from Travers Charron ↓
* @the_inkwellian on Threads
* Scattering Poem Seeds on Substack
* His tanka and haiku collection, Glass Shadows, is available now.
* Currently he is preparing his first full-length poetry collection, Thunderclap Heart, for submission later this year.
Submissions are open. If you have a poem you want me to read on the podcast, now’s the time.
I’m looking for the one that lights you up. The one you’re proud of. The one you can’t read without crying. The one that makes you feel something big.
Let’s make space for the one this Fall on One Poem Only.
Deadline is Thursday, July 31.
🍎 Submit Here 🍎
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit rembrandtscure.substack.com
View all episodes
By Maggie DeversLast Fog at Sunrise
Travers Charron
If life stretched on forever,
would we still kneel in the wild mint
just to listen to the wind?
It’s the fire burning low
that draws us near.
The song, fading
that makes us sing.
The morning mist lifting
that reveals the deer
in the clearing.
Grief is not just absence–
it’s the overflow
of all we didn’t say,
the touch we postponed,
a life paused too long
on someday.
We are each
a breath on glass,
a shadow just beginning to fall.
One day,
we’ll rise
as the last fog at sunrise–
already vanishing
as the light arrives.
Sof if you love,
say so.
If something stirs you,
listen.
The morning comes quickly.
And the fog
never stays.
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit rembrandtscure.substack.com
More from Travers Charron ↓
* @the_inkwellian on Threads
* Scattering Poem Seeds on Substack
* His tanka and haiku collection, Glass Shadows, is available now.
* Currently he is preparing his first full-length poetry collection, Thunderclap Heart, for submission later this year.
Submissions are open. If you have a poem you want me to read on the podcast, now’s the time.
I’m looking for the one that lights you up. The one you’re proud of. The one you can’t read without crying. The one that makes you feel something big.
Let’s make space for the one this Fall on One Poem Only.
Deadline is Thursday, July 31.
🍎 Submit Here 🍎
This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit rembrandtscure.substack.com