The Mist Walker

Morning mist

embraces these forsaken streets,

giving them an air of mystery;

like a veil

hides undiscovered beauty.



building facades

frown narrowly

on a lone passerby.


A lank and dreary fellow,

making his necessary mile

before the Sun

burns away the clouds

to reveal the day.


Dew drops cling

to hat and coat

and damp chill reaches out

to grip the skin.


This lean hour

is ripe for secrets

and skullduggery,

as if the city

has not yet gasped

and yawned

through its first breaths.


Echoes of falling footsteps

ring clearly;


by grey

and dreary

and melancholy.


Only sinners wake at this hour,

either languishing in their crimes,

or waking early enough to pay for them.


What fate,

of that tall traveller

through pre-dawn mist?

What secrets must he hold?


Eyes that behold secrets

in the silver-dark

of summer mornings.

Sins and beauty concealed

under a cool sheen

of morning mist.


HG – 2017

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