In the morning, the fog
Commuters fill the lanes
On their way into the city
They cannot see
But know too well
Commuters fill the lanes
On their way into the city
They cannot see
But know too well
It’s there
In the haze
Diminutive towers
Shadows beneath a piercing sun
As they are shadows
Piercing the shroud
Beneath a sky of mottled blue
In the evening rush there will be no misty cover
Crystalline clear; hard-edged architecture
Though the fog lays still upon commuters
Pix to Words 