| THE fog comes | |
| on little cat feet. | |
| It sits looking | |
| over harbor and city | |
| on silent haunches | 5 |
| and then moves on. |
Carl Sandburg
No harbor or city here, so in this case the fog hovers over the meadow in early morning. How else would we know it is September?
September is Nation Fog Month around here. Out three rivers are warm and the night air cool. It can completely obliterate the river valleys. Very beautiful I think, but then again I like rainy days.
ReplyDeleteI've always loved that poem and the image it conveys to my mind. We rarely get fog here in the mountains. I like actually like how it drapes the landscape.
ReplyDeleteAh, those morning temperature differentials!
ReplyDeleteOne of my favorite poems. We live in a fog friendly place.
ReplyDeleteLovely shot of the fog.
ReplyDeleteIt still feels like summer here, but by next week, we'll go down to the 70s with some rain. BTW I love that little poem -- my students used to do a lot of work on just those few lines.
ReplyDeleteLove the image of "little cat feet." Also love fog. It softens the world.
ReplyDeleteLike the poem and the photo is breathtaking, so different from here! Looks very eerie.
ReplyDeleteNo fog for us in southern california until the 'dead of winter.' ;)
ReplyDeleteBUT...I love a foggy day at the beach almost as much as a sunny one. The sound of a fog horn lulls me. :)
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