mist fashions

in the hills
the trees wear mist shawls
draped over their bony shoulders
tucked up to their lichen covered ears

in the valleys
the trees wear mist skirts
dragging low on the ground
wrapped round stiff legs that ache with cold

by the sea
the trees wear mist burqas
covered up from head to toe
angles softened and precious buds hid safe

A moment in traffic

against a background of golden trees
and piles of leaves on pavements
their lives play out around me
as I watch from the queue of cars
snaking our way gradually through town

the regulars like the silver haired man
who I often see twice in my child-carrying
back and forth, sometimes with ears wired
sometimes with a friend in conversation
his eye catches mine once or twice
and I look away fast, just an observer

some regulars I miss now my route has changed
like “man with a bag” always waiting for his lift
I felt like I knew him, so often I saw him there
and also “red lady” whose bright hair I so admired
with her impressive dog handling skills each morn

glimpses into lives as I ponder and sit in traffic
the schoolgirl smoking with slightly furtive glances
looks like she wants to be noticed blowing out clouds
how long before she regrets I wonder
the young couple, faces flushed, eyes bright
deep in conversation with smiles flashed at each other
fingers linked as they walk in step
the introvert stomping through crowds staring straight ahead
doesn’t want to be part of this mess
the nervous looking child not long at high school
trying to cross the road alone
the students proudly wearing their hoodies
with club names scrawled across the back
like the knights of old carrying their colours on banners
some scurry and hurry, lectures to go to, deadlines to beat
some stroll and chat, forget about cars, and risk toes

and all around, autumn takes hold
and squirrels rush about their business
and a gap opens up in the road
and we’re off again, moving onwards with our lives