Mizzle, Again, Without You

I experienced mizzle, again, tonight.
This time, without you.

Our first mizzle draped the English town of
Dover at night. Friends’ laughs echoed in our wake.

A mizzle clouded all the air space,
As we strolled under repeating

Streetlights from B&B to seafood joint.
We arrived damp, the standard condition of

Englishness. Our second mizzle– that
Anniversary weekend in Boston

Walking to find supper uphill by
Beacon Hill brownstone and barbers.

Enforced relaxation and us time–
Our hearts compressed by childlike

Worries. Mizzle, again, tonight, without you.
A feather coldness held inside a wind.

— day 21, Poetry Month

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Elizabeth Howard

Elizabeth writes literary non-fiction, haiku, cultural rants, and Demand Poetry in order to forward the cause of beautiful writing. She teaches and speaks about the rhetorical impact of beautiful writing. A recent transplant to Connecticut, she calls London, Kansas City, and Iowa home. 

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