fog falling
breathing wet the pavement
under the false light of streetlamps
and spotlights on the cupula
warm rising and cloud descending
over each blade of brown wintered grass
each rough and scruffy shred of tree bark
all potholes and loose gravel along the edge of the road
nature loses face in the veiled visage of
a damp and foamy evening
find me here, o soul
lose me here in the mist, under the cover
not of night but of mists
and even lonliness cannot touch me,
yet isolated and fighting the curious
envelope
of the atmoshpere.
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