The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
by Carl Sandburg (1878-1967)
This entry was posted on November 2, 2015 at 1:19 pm and is filed under Poetry with tags Carl Sandburg, Fog, Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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I posted this in response to reports of widespread fog across the UK. For the record, however, I should point out that here in Brighton it is bright and sunny…
Hence the name. 🙂
Presumably there is fog in the North. Not the Midlands, the real North:
The imagery in this poem is gorgeous. Please find time to read my poetry on Rain-Chimes, my poetry blog, http://drsmitasriwas280.wordpress.com/
At first I thought she was referring to the lyrics of the Linisfarne song. 🙂
Most links to other blogs in comments are spam or at least off-topic, but this links to actual poetry, so is somewhat relevant.
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