Winter River of Fog

This time of year we enjoy an interesting view from our front porch most mornings.

A river of fog flows east past our home from the Coloma valley, visits a while in the vicinity of Chili Bar, and then retreats back to the lower elevation to settle in until an afternoon sun drives it away for the day.
Here the Coloma valley is covered in fog. It almost looks like a misty lake in the distance.

Hard to see in this shot, but the full moon was still hanging around in our blue sky, yet the folks in Coloma were socked in and wouldn't have been able to enjoy it.

Fog by Carl Sandburg

The fog comes on

little cat feet.

It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches

and then moves on.

The fog is creeping up the river, bringing a chill and a mystery with it.

Winter Haiku by Sunil Uniyal

fog in the valley -

trees and mountains recede

then vanish

the dawn's draped in fog,

the pheasant forgets to sing -

where are you, O sun?

the sun-god at last

felling fog with his arrows -

trees and hills appear.

Here you can barely see the river in the lower left.

The Fog by Aleksandra Lachut

I like the fog

It's soft and cool,

It hides everything

On the way to school.

I can't see a house

I can't see a tree,

Because the fog

Is playing with me.

The sun comes out

The fog goes away,

but it shall be back

Another day.

Fog by Edwina Reizer

Fog, settling in the air all around.

Fog covering the earth like a blanket on the ground.

Where did you come from?
Why are you here?
You feel so misty,
The air's unclear.

Fog, I wait patiently and use my eyes.

Fog, you're lifting now and I can see the skies.

Everything looks like it did before.

No more mist

the ground's been kissed

by fog.

The Breathing by Denise Levertov

An absolute

patience.

Trees stand

up to their knees in

fog. The fog

slowly flows

uphill.

White cobwebs, the grass

leaning where deer

have looked for apples.

The woods

from brook to where

the top of the hill looks

over the fog, send up

not one bird.

So absolute, it is,

no other than
happiness itself, a breathing

too quiet to hear.

Let the Fog Roll In by Ben Paynter

Let the fog roll in I say

From the mountains, and no tongue

Has told a lie it didn't like

Nor sang a song it hasn't sung.

Let the fog roll in I say

I'd rather have it here than there

Atop that mountain with the snow.

Let the roll in I say

The sun has grown a boring tone

The streetlights make the shadows dance

And make the streets seem less alone.

Sometimes it comes in dense. Is there a river down there somewhere?

Sometimes it comes in wispy, showing little bits of river.

Sometimes it floats and sinks and rises again.

But at last it flows upward for the last time, returning downstream.

Back again to the Coloma valley, and then down further to the large Central Valley from where it came.

Goodbye fog.