among the scattered clouds

some days the fog
lifts
and you can
see clearer
how things really
are.
the brightness
in color
of what couldn't
be avoided and lies
in the road,
a red hat on
a stranger passing
by.
the sign on
the door saying
open, not
closed.
you can see your
shoes
in a puddle
of last
nights melted snow,
or the reflection
of your aging face
in the dry
cleaners window,
a piece of sun
and blue
sky there too
among the scattered
clouds.