Fog
Whenever I see fog, it reminds me of my mom. When we were kids, she wrote up and posted the poem "Fog," by Carl Sandburg. I think she put it on the frig but I can't remember for sure. I have a vague memory she put up other poems, too. I think she must have been trying to expose us to poetry. This is the one I remember.
Fog
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
Good poem. Good mom.
