The sun’s still out,
is this fog or smog?

Something fell,
perhaps a cloud

to Vermeer up
the landscape.

Can’t be sure
of anything here,

the interstate
spanning the valley

now floats high
on condensing vapor.

A growing thought,
a blue-eyed wonder,

sticks around
under the soft

chambray sky,
the day

refusing to cede
to the night,

and so this caprice
lingers longer, too