Stepping out for a walk,
I see the fog is back.
You never know when it will come,
when the clouds will settle heavily,
blocking out the sun
from the sky to the ground.
It rolls in softly.
Almost before you notice,
it permeates everything,
and the chill is beneath your skin.
When will it lift?
No one can say.
As it comes, it goes.
It always evaporates
after awhile.
The last particles of mist
sparkle as they dance
and sublimate in the sun.
Until then,
I’ll just have to walk
in it,
keeping the company
of the silhouettes
that appear, memory-like,
in the vapor.
