Morning

This morning overcast I can’t
Tell where the city’s smoke starts and
Clouds begin, where the sun’s best effort
Meets a pale end and all the forms of night
Still light as fog creep across my heart

And how could I describe in these words
What each of us know, as the city bus lurches
And we draw to us the comfort of our coats
The comfort as of the darkest sorrow’s vein of hope
How could I describe in words, why try
As though you don’t know your own as I.