Morning clouds on the ground
make my eyelashes dewy.
I am at the fringe
of a dream.
The traffic lights struggle to communicate,
their hues subdued,
artificial bird chirps signal that the
walk sign is on,
my feet forge forward into the fog.
Saturated in grey,
the landscape reflects my mind’s inner workings,
drenched by the steady stream of coffee,
half asleep and stumbling,
making it through.