heavy fog

at just past noon, not enough light slips through the fog to get to my windows; i mistake it for dusk. i can hear the past few days of snowpack sliding down the gutters, along the channels i cut towards the drains so we wouldn't be flooded out.

hours later, when i'm returning from errands, i pass through a slight dip in the road. the fog pools there, swept through the trees and rows of houses. it clogs my eyes and nose, smelling like confusion. crows pass overhead, the beating of their wings stirring the air; i hear and feel them more than anything else. i trip over mud i didn't see.

i don't understand this weather. this weather is real.

11 February 2018 19:55