Dawn drifts over the ridge
Into the deep grayness of fog.
Reluctantly the sun
Relinquishes the day
As the light moves
From shadow to shade,
Stripping color from prism’d palette
Revealing only gray scale.
In the murky afternoon,
Dusk extinguishes
The last frail lamp
And night returns to night.
Succumbing to the weather,
Misery has its own forecast.
thecourseofourseasons 
Oh, those closing lines are powerful. In that dense fog, it is good to snuggle into fleecy blankets and watch movies about love. And cry, if we need to. Take two movies, and call me in the morning. Smiles. (Suggestion: Evening and A Thousand Times Good Night. Also Dan In Real Life. All FABULOUS.)