Morning Chiaroscuro

I woke today to a world dulled by fog.
It rolled in over night to obscure my every sense and view.
It hangs heavy in the air as if suspended in time.
Dreamy and fuzzy.
Vague and unclear.

Everything appears to move more slowly or not at all.
Absent is the birdsong.
The few squirrels foraging black walnuts do not display their usual frenzy.
Lawnmowers and leaf blowers are eerily silenced.
Unhurried and languid.
Deaf and dopey.

The low lying clouds are thick like a wall of suffocating smoke.
I can make out the shapes of the changing trees, but not their vivid hues.
There is only the suggestion of light and bright.
Monochromatic and dramatic.
Shaded and faded.

The lake has disappeared.
Miles of waves are replaced by one airy abyss.
This illusion makes me wonder what this landscape will look like in a hundred years.
Vapory and ethereal.
Unearthly and divine.

What will my life look like in ten years? Twenty?
Will there be more light than dark?
Fewer shadows and more sun?
Luminous or weighted.
Laborious or unobscured.

Subtle are the gradations from day to day.
Although the same nuances can be stark from year to year.
Everyday I affirmatively answer the only question I know I know.
Is it worth it?