Day Ten ... NaPoWriMo / Poem-a-Day 2019

Maureen Thorson’s NaPoWriMo prompt: “Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that starts from a regional phrase, particularly one to describe a weather phenomenon.” Robert Lee Brewer’s Poem-a-Day prompt: “For today’s prompt, write a lone poem. Perhaps the poem is about a solitary wanderer or person who just prefers to go it alone. Or a lone winner, lone wolf, or some other solo individual. Or alternatively, I’ll accept poems that are about loans or that are about being alone.” A regional weather phrase . . . that made me think immediately of a California term: tule fog (pronounced "too-lee"), a thick ground fog that occurs in California's Central Valley during the winter, typically from November through March. It can be unbelievably thick, with visibility sometimes going down to zero, just a few feet, not much farther than the front bumper of your car if you're in it. It's the cause of many huge highway pile-ups and traffic deaths. For example, on "November 3, 2007, heavy tule fog caused a massive pile-up that included 108 passenger vehicles and 18 big-rig trucks on northbound State Route 99 between Fowler and Fresno. Visibility was about 200 feet (60 m) at the time of the accident. There were two fatalities and 39 injuries in the crash" (Wikipedia). Tule fog can be strangely surreal. I have personally seen tule fog that was only a few feet from the ground, almost like a lake of thick cotton, so that cows out in a field looked like boats moored on the water. Okay, here we go, merging both prompts today. Linked haiku, strict 5-7-5. Tule Fog I must have been just 16 when I was driving on some bridge, not sure which one, on the Bay, so weird I sometimes think now it was just a dream. The traffic had slowed to maybe 10 miles per hour, and you couldn't see the other cars, though you knew they had to be there. Headlights a diffuse glow all around you, like you're in a ping-pong ball. You had to open the window, and stick your head out, try to listen for the other cars, invisible hulks like dead ships in a graveyard of still, thick water. I felt alone there like Frankenstein's creation out on the tundra, the sled dogs howling as they run through endless white. So strangely peaceful and yet you knew Death was right there, in metal and glass vehicles, each containing a lone traveller, so terrified of the final kiss. —Draft by Vince Gotera    [Do not copy or quote . . . thanks.] Friends, won’t you comment, please? Love to know what you’re thinking. To comment, look for a red line below that starts Posted by, then click once on the word comments in that line. If you don’t find the word “comments” in that line, then look for a blue link below that says Post a comment and click it once. Thanks! Ingat, everyone.  ヅ

NaPoWriMo / PAD 2019 • Pick a day: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30