Gifts in the Fog


September 12, 2016 by Ray Yanek

It was a damp and foggy morning, and upon coming home after my morning workout, this was waiting near my door:


And then I thought about this:

A Noiseless Patient Spider

By. Walt Whitman

A noiseless patient spider,
I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated,
Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,
It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,
Till the bridge you will need be form’d, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.



2 thoughts on “Gifts in the Fog

  1. Pamela Liegl says:

    Nice! Getting the creative writing group going again has given you more time to “Writing the Rails”.

  2. jenbr323 says:

    Hey Ray, nice to see your inspiring words again. Missed it! Keep up the good work, and give the family my love please!!

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