2

Lamplight smeared by heavy fog

and rain-swept cobblestones

thoroughly greased.

A landscape obscured

by encroaching nightfall

and starless aerials.

Citizens of the village

escape from the cold

while the alehouse interiors

burn brilliantly

like the treasure caverns

of timeless fantasy.

I do not understand

nor do I care.

Henry in a booth

in the back,

apathetically studying

the daily examiner.