The air is coated in a dewy mist.
Fog sprinkled in the distance,
Distorting vision, adding uncertainty
To your morning routine.
Blades of grass, tipped in frost,
Pointing toward the gray sky.
But having us settle for mist.
The air, crisp, cool, fresh.
The big tree slowly drips water,
droplets plopping into the earth.
Smoke slowly pools from your breath
Before evaporating before your eyes.
You step onto the wet sidewalk,
Pull you hood over your head,
And start jogging. You have the route
Yes. This is going to be a good day.
So far, it is perfect.