In the morning, the fog
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