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Fog

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 , , . You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

2 Responses to “Fog”

  1. telescoper Says:
    November 2, 2015 at 1:29 pm

    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…

    Reply
  2. smitaanandpoet Says:
    November 3, 2015 at 7:44 am

    The imagery in this poem is gorgeous. Please find time to read my poetry on Rain-Chimes, my poetry blog, http://drsmitasriwas280.wordpress.com/

    Reply

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