A horizon held in fog, the day going out behind it.
Death of day
An iron gate seen through fog, the city beyond it gone soft.
Between me and my dreams
Stone architecture standing in mist; another country half-resolving.
Find here our place of rest and refuge
A track running away into fog, the far end gone.
Path to oblivion
A single standing stone held quiet in pale mist.
Stone standing
A narrow path through fog, its edges falling away.
Keep to the path
A way through, the going of it suspended in the air.
Journey
A figure half-dissolved in the fog around it.
Between me and the air
Wet ground underfoot, the fog low over it.
Slush
One figure held in the field, the rest of the world withdrawn.
Lone
A place to stop, the country quiet around it.
Spot to rest
A bench held in the closing dusk; the journey laid down.
Senses rest