Fog

And just as the sky
darkends and thunder
looms in the distance,
the misty drops of
an unpredicted downpour
back off.
The clouds, which at
one point had been
dark and forboding,
begin to thin.
A hazy grey fog
rolls in and the
wind dies down until
not a leaf or twig
moves out of place.
It is here that I
stand. On a bridge
halfway between
there, and there.
I look both ways,
cannot see more
than three feet.
It's my decision.
A bird cries
directly above me,
and a single sliver
of sunshine breaks
through the canopy
of mugginess.
It is my decision.