The smoke twirls and roils in the air,
just over the tops of the buildings.
Silently it disperses, never to be touched
by human eyes again.
Where did it come from? Was it
from a wisp of fire, rolling and
frolicking before it was snuffed out?
Or maybe the smoke from a semi
as it begins or ends its long
journey to or from this city.
It could have brrn the exhaust
from a bus, stopping to pick up
and drop off its daily load of
Or maybe, just maybe, a fault
opened just the other side
of that building. A fault that
beckoned with all the answers to
the mysteries that lay deep within
the earth. A fault that was
only there for a moment, but
long enough for smoke, probably
older than me, to escape.
But now it’s gone, a casualty to the
atmosphere. And I am left to wonder
at its faintly shrouded origins.