It's only February

Tonight I took a step out
the front door
to a world
shrouded in fog

The air was a dream
and nearly silent
nearly
because the freeway is never silent

Up the near street to a tiny park
the moisture turning
3 foot light posts
into bright monoliths of hope

I could not see the sky
but it was there
and that's like so many things
these days

But not being able to see down a street
is secondary to knowing it already
and I'm already familiar
with the path
i'm on now

Fog used to be so depressing
now it's
just an accent
to
a
beautiful cold night

When I sit alone
I find that I only comprehend the possibilities
through a cloudy mire
of uncertainty

And under a gazebo
well lit and dry
above my neighborhood
just out of sight
from my house

I think again of all the things
I cannot see
but am still confident
they are there