Death by Fog

Photo courtesy of the author

In the Faroe Islands
a farmer may commonly die
while minding sheep.

Pursuing a wayward sheep in fog
a farmer may carelessly step
where is no land.

Then the descent.

From cliffs as tall as these
a life may be measured in feet
as well as time.

Whether fifteen hundred feet or five,
several seconds or a few,
the end is sure.

Yet there is choice.

For man, to chase or not;
to choose tomorrow’s fog or this;
to die or live.

And for the god of falls,
to break him on a spur of rock,
or drown him in a cold Atlantic swell.