f o g

Good Morning,

Early-break-of-day fog,

That surrounds;

Thick and hanging… draping

Like epaulets from the delts of soldiers

Making the fabric of the air known,

in your movement.


The stirrings of these fog soldiers.

that dance and prey and settle onto the surface

Of the glow emanating atop; around;

the street lights…


Light beams

These glows, encapsulated in the liquid of the air

Grace and Embrace

the outline of the trees making

Their auras vulnerable to visual speculation…


Wearied feet, walking slow with a new-found lust;

Eyes filled with wander,

At the godly omen of the fox

Appearing to then dissolve –

Message of protection passed on –

Into the misty fog,

As I feel I may succumb to the weightlessness of the air….


Good morning,

Early morning London fog.

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