Turbulent Murk

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Looking over the roofs of buildings
I see the fog puffing into the air
The underside of the fog is flat and featureless
Like a sheet of mirror reflecting the city

Turbulent murk...
It is a magic low-lying cloud
And I bear a gloomy tunnel right through it
Because the haze tries to be a naked nymph

Mist
Drizzle
Rain
Mizzle running down straight...
... on my windowpane
I will let the  raindrops become poems

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