With A Nod To Carl Sandburg

During the summer months one of my mother's favorite times is when the cool morning and evening air moves in on 'cat feet.' It reminds her of the Carl Sandburg poem, Fog; one that her Aunt Leona remembers memorizing as a child during the early 1900s.

The fog comes

on little cat feet.

It sits looking

over harbor and city

on silent haunches

and then moves on.

With the exception of the poem, Fog, Copyright © 2008 by Cindy Scherwinski