A heavy fog settled into the city last night,
dimming the lights and dulling the sounds
of traffic and trains and softening the corners
of the jagged edges in my brain.
It came so sudden it almost felt like rain
as we were walking along the sidewalk
from the theatre to the car parked
across the street from the police station.
Glazed bricks on the old avenue
shone faintly under the lights
and the rusted steel frame of the storm sewer
glistened as if it had been polished or new.
We drove home wondering
what it must be like out along the river
where the darker waters flow past
the old concrete trestles and wooded banks.
Here in the nearness of skies that brush the earth,
and the coming season of humble birth,
I can imagine angels singing in such mist,
poor shepherds kissed by their songs
and all of creation longing for a light
greater than its darkest night.