NaPoWriMo 20 (fog)

walking through the city:
it’s six a.m. on a
chill winter day.
fog abounds, i can’t see
more than
thirty metres down the road.

isolated –
it’s a public holiday.
the cold brushes over me
ignoring my fashionable
jacket.

the sky remains violet
as one car
swooshes past.

gone,
into the fog.
disappearing in a faint
glow of taillights.

and again,
another car.
can any of the cars’
occupants
see me, i wonder.

streetlamps glow
above me,
ethereal and almost
too bright against the
pitch-dark sky.

the world remains
on pause,
a fortress disguised
as night.

violet turns pale,
the haze clears and
light creeps over the horizon.

it’s a new day.