Totally Optional Prompts: In the Ear

Ede asleep in front of the view on a fogless day.

I loved the Sylvia Plath poem that was one of the works highlighted in the Totally Optional Prompts entry this week.  The technical brilliance of the poem really appealed to me, (particularly the alliteration and repitition of sounds) as did Plath's dazzling vocabulary.  I don't have 
the same extensive knowledge of the English language, however the prompt did inspire me
to finally write another poem that's been floating around in my subconscious for some time.  Sorry - it's another Wellington poem. Still stuck on a theme!  Although we live high on a ridge we are enveloped in fog several times a year as warm air currents meet cold air flowing in from the Strait.  Last year the airport below us was closed for a week.  

Silence
The silence signals the fog
before we even open our eyes
to a grey dawn haze
circling the single bulb
hanging from the ceiling
over our bed.

Outside no planes are circling,
no roar of slamming brakes
or surge of wing on updraft.
Instead, the thick sound of
soup or sound waves through
muslin hanging still.

The cool wind of the South
does not howl. It sends
out a slick hiss under
its breath as it pushes
into warm mist air
from the North.

The North air sighs and
subsides, spreading itself
to blanket this city and
the fog horn begins.