Fog In Carmel

There, it was lying Among the school boys' ankles, Along the horizon of the blue, clear water Above the level of the concrete curb, On the narrow, packed downtown street. It had no scent, For which your nose could already sniff the salty air. It had no direction, Just swifting through the grey sky... But you imagine it leaves by noon? No. It's eternally there Along with the chill your pale skin receives, When you walk out your cottage door.