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.