Winter in Auckland

Landmarks slide in and out of the fog.
Dancing behind a vaporous veil,
landmarks slide in and out of the fog.

The sea spits mouthfuls of frothy ale,
like an oil painting I once saw,
dancing behind a vaporous veil.

Gulls tumbling above the waves screech and caw
as the wet wind tosses them to and fro
like an oil painting I once saw.

The sodden remnants of autumn’s glow
cling desperately to clammy concrete
as the wet wind tosses them to and fro.

The whistle past my ears, on repeat,
as fat droplets of water bunch and
cling desperately to clammy concrete.

A soft focus scene, dreary and bland,
landmarks slide in and out of the fog
as fat droplets of water bunch and
landmarks slide in and out of the fog.