Waxing Poetic

I woke up to fog this morning and felt a little poetic.

Fog

The fog creeps in coming across the water
To spread along the beach
Blanketing the rocky shores
Cloaking them in the mist.

The foghorn sounds to warn of danger
In coming too close
The denseness of the fog
Dampening the sounds of the foghorn.

Seagulls flying unseen in the mists
Their calls muffled as they search for food
Drifting on the slight breezes
Diving to the water’s surface.

The water lapping at the shore
The tide flowing in and out
Gently to not disturb
The fog creeping in.

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