‘Twas a foggy foggy morn
Down by the harbour wall
A ships mast appeared
Lurking ghostly and tall
Out through the mist
A canoeist appeared
Striving for perfection
His style all but revered
Out to the horizon
Where I thought it to be
A sun was on the rise
Trying to break free
But the fog was the master
In this story being told
It’s depth like a glue
Just taking its hold
And just when I thought
I couldn’t see any more
A shaft of light broke through
I could not ignore
It reflected off the water
In a shimmering way
A circle of blue and silver
What words could I say
Astounded at the beauty
That blessed me that day
I reached for my pencil
For words to portray ………