"The Fog Rolls In Again"

Is it getting a little misty in here?

"The Fog Rolls In Again"
by Joe Leo

The fog rolls in again,
and I am so ready for it
that I barely notice it:
blinding my eyes,
slithering up my nostrils,
filling my lungs,
taking my brain as its own.
The fog writes its own poems;
it types its own words;
it composes its own narratives;
and, of course,
it recites its own eulogy
at its own funeral
where the mourners,
the curious,
and even the clergy,
look at their feet
to notice
the fog rolling in once again.