Tule Fog
The mist hangs in the canyons,
like a whisper, like a prayer.
Like an ancient dark suggestion,
of something not quite there.
It’s a misty cauldron,
or the steam of dragon’s lair.
A secret incantation,
removing the despair.
It’s the “just add this”in H2O,
and the “freeze” in frozen snow.
It’s the “way too much”...
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