The view from my cup…morning fog. In his poem, The Fog, Carl Sandburg wrote “The fog comes
on little cat feet. It sits looking over city and harbor on silent haunches and then moves on.” Much has been written about the tiny poem. It has been dissected and analyzed. School children often read the poem in the early grades. Sandburg was inspired to write it after walking through Grant Park on the Chicago harbor.
As I sat drinking coffee this morning, the fog hung heavy over the lawn, blanketing my view in a shimmering dew covering. Seemingly out of nowhere, a black cat ambled past the deck. He was walking gingerly, picking up his paws and shaking them every few steps. When he came to the split rail fence, he hopped on the lower rails to walk out of the wet grass. When he realized he would have to hop down to navigate the fence posts, he took the high road and jumped to the top rail and continued his journey.
So this morning, my fog was quite literally accompanied by little cat feet. He disappeared behind the pampas grass and left me with the quiet stillness that fog brings. I’m grateful for the view, the silence broken only by occasional blue jay chatter. Starting the week in the beautiful reverie reminds me to embrace the calm. Life will be hectic soon enough.
Our yard and view beyond is breathtaking when shrouded in fog. It’s like being in a painting that shifts and changes with the drifting fog. Carl said it best… ‘It sits…on silent haunches and then moves on.’