the fog

there is an eerie beauty to fog. it was very foggy this morning but by early afternoon the fog had burned off and the sun lit up like an acetylene torch. not for long. when i left the office this evening the fog returned. big time. walking into the fog felt like being enveloped in a white cloth. pleasantly. or like being in a film noir. so i played with images on the way home. one moment i'm marlowe slinking thru the streets suspicious of everyone. the next moment i look for those creatures in the film/book versions of stephen king's the mist. i really didn't need the fog to scare myself, because like that frost poem, i can scare myself with my own desert places. still, it was beautiful, the play of light from the streets, the traffic, the building upon the fog. cozy nearly. a bonus hour in a day that was long and tedious. in the streets tonight, in the fog, i felt sure in my footing. in the dark i didn't need to check my smile in deference to the thinking of others that i might've lost my mind. it was lost in the fog once i stepped thru the door.