Another untitled poem

Trucks rumble up and down the hill,
Carting away debris.
The air is still and cold.
Fog lingers,
Clinging to the trees
And hovering above the water.
The hammering of construction workers
Can be heard far in the distance.
Sunlight cuts through the fog,
Gradually warming me.
Geese call out,
Honks echoing through the still air.
Lazily, they bob along,
Spreading out across the pond’s surface.

December 2023