Sunrise was late this morning

Crippled by the mist

Brushing against the fence line

Jutting inward

Oozing droplets on the barbs

Obscuring their points

Masking their danger

To those souls contained within their confines

And those without

Overhead lines slice the gray fabric

Extending the boundaries skyward

Connecting the giant stickmen

Whose glowing faces

Stand guard on all below

Sunrise was late this morning

Late for a time

That has no meaning