Foggy Morn

I love mornings like the one today. I love fog. I am not so sure what I love so much about it, but I do. I remember when I was in college and would be up so late into the night/wee morning hours that I would see the fog starting to settle. When I'd awake in the mornings we'd be socked it. I was in heaven. My favorite mornings were when I couldn't see the building next to my dorm. It was calming to me. I still find it calming and somehow, refreshing. There have been "foggy mornings" in the Portland area recently, but not near where I live. That is, until today.

The picture below is the scene from my parking lot as I was getting into my car.

This picture is of some trees on my way to work. This is nearing where the sun had already burned through most of the fog.
Happy Foggy Morning! :)

The House Of Dust: Part 01: 08: The White Fog Creeps from the Cold Sea Over the City

by Conrad Aiken
The white fog creeps from the cold sea over the city,

Over the pale grey tumbled towers,

And settles among the roofs, the pale grey walls.

Along damp sinuous streets it crawls,

Curls like a dream among the motionless trees

And seems to freeze.

The fog slips ghostlike into a thousand rooms,

Whirls over sleeping faces,

Spins in an atomy dance round misty street lamps;

And blows in cloudy waves over open spaces . . .

And one from his high window, looking down,

Peers at the cloud-white town,

And thinks its island towers are like a dream . . .

It seems an enormous sleeper, within whose brain

Laborious shadows revolve and break and gleam.