January 11, 2015

Another fogged horizon
Another fogged horizon

The sky is the water.  The sky is indeed water where it meets the sea.  It is tactile, available, right there at my fingertips.  I should reach out and take some cloud and put it into my pocket.  It nearly boils as it pats the surface of the water.  Or does it freeze?  I think the sea smells different when it reaches up to the sky.  Or does the sky reach down so it can do the patting?  Whichever, the air feels different and seems to smell different.

I miss real fog.  It happens here, more than it did in the Midwest, but still not often enough.  The softening of fog, its own wispy blurring, enchants me.  When it’s foggy, you can tell where the sky starts.  It starts with the fog.  Where does the sea start?  Does it, too, start with the cloud?

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