The Storm 

If I’ve read it once, I’ve read in one hundred times, one thousand. Carl Sandburg’s poem Fog is light, beautiful, tangible…brilliant.

Fog

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking

over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

Soon, my area of the world will be swallowed in snow, lots of snow. Thanks to that looming snow, and a bit of fog, I penned this today.

Image result for storm

Storm

The storm comes
on dog feet,

bounding
over hills,
over mountain crags,
spitting, wet,
thunder cracking
in its lungs.

Advertisements

6 thoughts on “The Storm 

Say something!! Please?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s