The black bottomed clouds
Were sliding silently below
The summer night moon
Each caught for a moment
In their flight as if glimpses
of a stream of people
hurrying over a bridge
only their dismembered heads,
disfigured by fog,
seen above the railing.
Startled by their exposure,
Raggedness revealed,
They scurried by formless
Leaving no clue
whether they were
gathering or retreating,
Coming or going,
Full of hope or full of fear.
Just an impression of haphazard hurry
No time to pause and ask.
Leaving me standing, watching,
wondering,
if I dared ask why.