FOG

9:14 am on the clock radio beside my bed. I wake to the sound of barges on the river sounding their fog horns back and forth. Most would find them unsettling but I find them dreary and beautiful.

With my morning coffee in hand I venture out onto the veranda. Over the rooftops of my neighbours, I watch the majestic metal beasts slide by with unnatural grace. I breath the fog in and imagine it filling my lungs. My eyes are closed and the horns become the romantic calls of whales, their song rippling through the air towards the bordering cities. In this moment, no one cares but me.

Sing on…

I wish the fog would lay around lazy on the earth’s ground all day. I know that the traffic will come slicing through it and what is left will be chased away by the climbing sun.

I’m left hoping for tomorrow morning.