Bad weather, Good times

Fog encompasses the world,

A mantle of solitude to rest upon my shoulders

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Never has a cloak fit so well.

A frosty cold, the work of a mad artist upon the chilled earth.

Gaze in wonder at it the breath deeply,

Savour the soothing burn of the air on the way down.

Then exhale, admire the patterns in the mist.

Drizzle gently upon my cheeks,

Washing away and cleansing all things born

Of anger, pain and grief.

Bad weather, suits me well.