THE FOG comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
................................Carl Sandburg
...
On holidays and weekend mornings I am often found cruising the back roads near the waters of Clearfork Reservoir. And standing deep in the early morning dampness, I await the sun.
Slowly the silent wetlands come to life. Cardinal chips, a nuthatch calls "ank" and on the occasional November morn... a haunting tremolo floats across the water.
...............
As the fog lifts to reveal Common Loon...
.................................................I am thankful.
