the mist
moved slowly across
the field held down
by stones, stitch of trees
what colour was the mist
x-ray grey
how still was it
the iv drip before it falls…
I stopped the car to watch it cross the field
black earth breathing its winter breath…
the field disappeared in the mist
still the bison stood
life can become so still
the iv drip
before it falls
earth of the body
where a life grows
the stillness between silence
and muteness…
– Anne Michaels, from “Bison” in All We Saw: Poems
Notes: Poem from Whiskey River. Photo: Winter Morning Mist by Sébastien Mamy