She looks through the railing, her nose twitches

at something floating by that we don’t see

or maybe fish swimming yards offshore.

The fog disappears and the sun comes out

and for minutes it is warm outside and bright

and then the fog gathers itself, regroups.

Ten minutes is all we have to sun ourselves

and remember other times we spent outside

being warm with people who are somewhere else.

The fog takes back its spot, layers gauze where it was clear,

chases us off our chairs, there’s nothing to see but each other

the two of us and our dog waiting for what’s next.