Sunday, September 8, 2013

Foggy Morning in Pittsburgh Town

Just at dawn, across the Highland Bridge I go.

Gone from view is the mighty Allegheny,

Kidnapped  without a trace,

And I, invisible in fog dense and eerie,

Feel anonymous and somehow merry,

Now and then, 

Droplets from the mist break free,

And like gentle Irish rain,

Stain my many-pocketed vest.

I lift my face to their caress.

Then at first dimly I begin to see

Approaching auto lights

From farther off than previously.

The river below has returned to view.

Bridge signs are visible anew.

With decorum, anonymity gone,

I walk on.