Silhouettes in the Fog

I peered through a window
pebbled with drops
that gave the nightscape
an oil canvas effect,
moon obscured by fog.
Street lights turned night
an eerie gold, altered evening
shapes—just silhouettes.

A black and ochre
drama enveloped
sidewalk people,
huddled in tight groups,
warm breath steamed,
figures shrunken
deep in their coats.

Voices, muffled
under the tavern sign,
spoke in agitation
and anticipation.
The crowd moved
as one through
the welcoming door
for drinks and cheer,

leaving a watered scene
behind in the gloom, only
the pebbled drops remained.