ars poetica

I never get tired of watching this,
As the mists seem to move, then not move.
They don’t, of course, but merely disappear.                                                                       
Perhaps that’s why I like it.
The light is flat and hard and almost nonexistent,
The way our lives appear to us,                                                 
then don’t, as our inlook shifts.

Charles Wright, from “25,” Littlefoot