A sparsely inhabited world
this winter morning
for me to fill with imaginings
and wonder where I will…
Out from the mist they wander.
Kindred shades perhaps.
I nod and look for signs of life
as they pass.
But mostly grey faces in grey hoods
look down or turn away.
Grey from grey into grey.
Early morning shadows
seeking yesterday’s lost threads.
Do they see me at all?
I want to say,
“Look at me!”
but I do not.
Am I as grey as they?
From the fog yet one more
hooded spirit comes walking.
Again I nod.
She lifts her head
and smiles,
“Good morning.”
“Good morning.”
and passes into fog.
I don’t know what she looked like
but she was beautiful.
Marv Himmel February 13, 2014 ©
Photo by Arno Jenkins