[SAMWolf]

FOG



The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

Author Unknown

Michael miserable failureMoore

[SAMWolf]

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day
to our Military Mom's

[Soaring Feather]

I have always loved this Fog poem, Sam. The graphic is beautiful.

I have not gotten to the tunes yet, but you can bet I grabbed a cup of coffee and a donut as I swung by the counter in the Lair's kitchen. :-)

[Old Sarge]

Did you know something about your mother?

Mothers, of all ages and sizes, have wings.
You didn't know, that they had these things?
How did you ever think they do it all,
the gentle noises they make, when you fall
and bruised your knee as a kid,
The wings made those quiet sounds - they did!

When Mothers seem to be all places at once,
their wings carried them - I had this hunch,
when I thought I saw Momma in three different ways,
being nine seperate places on three seperate days.

Cleaning and cooking and bustling with a shout,
Did you really think that's what a Mother's about?
A Mother-wing can't be seen, but it's felt,
No better equipment has ever been dealt,
for Mother-wings fly, and can shelter and save,
and can whomp on your bottom if you misbehave,

But Mother-wings are only from Heaven above,
on loan from an angel, presented with love,
and are issued with each little child in arm,
so that Mothers can work without causing alarm,

So, listen in silence, when your thoughts are on her,
because, even tho' she's near or far, do not stir
if, just by your ear you hear fluttering, you
will know it's just Mother-wings - watching for you.

(c) 05-09-04 by JSR

[NicknamedBob]

Carl Sandburg (1878-1967)

Fog


THE fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.



Online text copyright © 2003, Ian Lancashire for the Department of English, University of Toronto.
Published by the Web Development Group, Information Technology Services, University of Toronto
Libraries.

Original text: Carl Sandburg, Chicago Poems (New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1916), p. 71. PS
3537 A618C5 1916 Robarts Library.
First publication date: 1916

[NicknamedBob]

Carl Sandburg (1878-1967)

Fog


THE fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.



Online text copyright © 2003, Ian Lancashire for the Department of English, University of Toronto.
Published by the Web Development Group, Information Technology Services, University of Toronto
Libraries.

Original text: Carl Sandburg, Chicago Poems (New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1916), p. 71. PS
3537 A618C5 1916 Robarts Library.
First publication date: 1916