fog

there was a fog in the morning, that may have resembled god somewhere in my sleepwalk to the bus stop. drops of water hung motionless in the air, as if the world had stopped as the rain was falling from the early morning clouds. the red leaves of autumn created a carpet directing my morning journey with dreams of distinction, and the rest of the yellow-orange-reds clung with willpower to their branches like faces in a silent crowd, occasionally whispering in the breeze. looking down the empty streets, with echoes of muted murmurs over the light fall breeze, i sighed once in sadness for the summer's end, and sighed again with serenity for the seasons yet to come.