Pencil Stubs Online
Reader Recommends


Sometimes When There's Smoke

By John I. Blair

Like a dream
I saw white mist drifting
Off the house roof,
Smokelike in the warm sun.

My mind flashed to disaster,
Visualizing flames
In my dusty attic
Where only yesterday
A rat had chewed through wires.

I stood there in the driveway
Appalled, thinking what to do,
Whom to call.

Overhead the sky was blue,
Peaceful after night rains,
Wind and thunder;
But the mist continued
Lifting to the trees,
Appealing to my fears.

Then, to my wonderment,
I saw the selfsame mist
Drifting off my neighbor’s house
And realized
I wasn’t seeing smoke, but steam.

©2019 John I. Blair, 4/25/2019

Click on author's byline for bio and list of other works published by Pencil Stubs Online.


Refer a friend to this Poem

Your Name -
Your Email -
Friend's Name - 
Friends Email - 


Horizontal Navigator



To report problems with this page, email Webmaster

Copyright © 2002 AMEA Publications