Foggy

The low hum of the electric radiator

and the distant sound of a dogs deep bark

become the silence they break;

so consistent is their presence.

Grey skies descend,

playing on the mossy tiles of the roofs

as though they were piano keys.

Two robins pick amongst the gravel,

unaffected by what might affect them,

concentrated only on what is there.

We pick amongst the gravel,

but we are too aware.

I flick the kettle on and let the sound echo

through the cold, still air. Plumes of vapour

mimicking the fog.