Sunday, May 25, 2014

Fog, and poetry

Another warm day is on deck. We're supposed to get thunder boomers later. Here is a photo that always makes me feel cool:

By Carl Sandburg

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

 The fog bank rolled in to Machiasport Jasper Beach, Maine. It is a foggy area, the foggiest in the US practically. Nearby Lubec has that distinction. Fog is quiet. Fog is mysterious. Fog cools without drenching.

I miss fog. I really miss foghorns.

Here is one foggy photo I took here in GA. It is of a foggy morning in my backyard-

And this is the side yard:

The Sun and Fog contested
By Emily Dickinson

The Sun and Fog contested
The Government of Day –
The Sun took down his Yellow Whip
And drove the Fog away –

1 comment:

Grace to You said...

Do you miss Maine? I do. I loved watching the sun burn off the fog as little wisps evaporated right before my eyes. I'm hoping that if the LORD allows me to serve with Him during His millennial reign, maybe He'll assign me to Maine. :) I'm expecting the black flies won't be a bother then. :D