January Thaw
January rain is melting the snow
and turning it into fog.
I’m watching the old man that lives down the street
walking his three-legged dog.
Nothing has edges, all detail is lost
everything’s rounded and grey.
The things I thought I saw yesterday
apparently have all gone away.
Sounds are short-lived, as though in a dream,
even the birds have gone still.
The sounds of the world, out there in the gloom,
are not making it up my hill.
I like days of fog, I wish there were more,
I like this dim, quiet place.
Nothing but time and moving of light
And coolness touching my face.
Agfa made a zillion Silettes between ’53 and ’69