Fog

I awoke to this beautiful sunrise last week but the last few days I've looked out at a misty, foggy, scene, romantic as the sunrise but in a different mood entirely. Maybe a cliche, but I immediately remember one of the first poems I memorized in the early eons of my life. Carl Sandburg's poem that perhaps others use as a touchstone for foggy days as well.

Fog

The fog comes
in on little cat feet.

It sits lovely
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
then it moves away.

Forgive me if I've misremembered any part of it. I think we all live our lives with certain metaphors we picked up from poetry and have forgotten both poem and poet but forever remember the metaphor.