The wind shifts
uneasily,
as if it
has hit a wrong
note in the
song that it
is blowing.
A stealthy
oppression stirs the
clouds gathering
in the sky.
Gray light
filters through the
low-hanging mist,
apprehensive and
unsure.
The melody has
died away now,
and the air sits
expectantly,
blurrily portraying
minute snapshots
of quiet uncertainty.
Silence is absolute as
an inaudible
change takes place,
slowly breaking the
momentary tension
that hung like
dew drops,
until the transition
is complete.
The fog still covers
loosely, but it is
merely thin and fluid,
not the palpable stuff
of a minute ago.
The wind begins again,
cautiously humming
its tuneless
song, restoring
the atmosphere to
the same
mellow ways
as before.