fog

By seven, I’m done. I put away lecture notes and look outside. Not light yet. When does the sun rise on a foggy, late October morning?

Outside, the workmen are at it. Cars throw beams of light, passing quickly. Madison goes to work early.





I don’t want to go to my office just yet. I head toward Picnic Point for a walk on this wet day. How do you photograph fog and a vague feel of drizzle?

The lakes are dusty gray. Everything about this strip of park space is muted, colorless. Understandably.





Ducks move across the water. Great numbers of them. Passing each other, searching for something. What?




Dripping moss, dark branches. Where am I? Madison, right?





A boat. A faint presence of color. It spins in a circle. Nobody's on board. A duck swims by.





Gray portends November days. Once the chill sets in, we’ll be there. For now, the cloud cover is protective. It's not really cold. Only wet. And gray.