Poem on Sunday: High Street Fog by Andrew Holden

Andrew Holden

Hushed and damped down

We walk with upturned collar, branches dripping

And push the quiet night foggy air aside

Pressing on through unfamiliar paths

A thousand times strolled and rushed

And dog-sniff ambled

Now cloaked and cast as rare character

Then scenes projected stop us dead

As star-burst street lamps fan from bare branch trees

Bar-code patterns into the night

Misted messages that demand you stop and stare

At sights of beauty in the mundane

Suburban streets dressed as old masters

Heavy with the velvet misty drapes but lightened new

Tomorrow’s dull dun Mac will, once again,

Grey the roads that Brigadoon

Once in a foggy night, catch the eye

And tell the tale that fair of face

Is sometimes held

By light and air

And circumstance