warm for the season
clouds hanging to the ground
hiding the sun
making mid-day feel like dusk

such days may make some folks
forlorn and grey
and they prefer to stay indoors
secluded, warm, in cozy places
practicing various social graces

for me
the blurry silhouettes of familiar shapes
open the doors
to visions of a magic world

the old oak tree down by the grocery
looms huge, somewhat mysterious,
almost a bit uncanny
an ancient giant rising from his lair

the hedges in the garden
have grown into dark vanishing walls
the path between them leading
straight into misty white uncertainty

even my neighbor’s little dog
   appearing suddenly
looks like a werewolf’s tiny brother

I do not bother
nor do I take flight

I am befogged
yet I do recognize
abundant water in the air
enhances our view through ambiguity
makes us enrich our world with meanings
more fantastic
    and quite otherwise
than those when days are clear and bright