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Fog
by Vaughn Neeld
The poet said, "Fog creeps in
on little cat feet."
Fog also steals in
in wreaths of God’s own breath;
offers hope of rain
to wash away winter’s pall;
rises from sun-warmed
earth after cooling rains;
wraps jewel-leaved trees
in misty veils;
chills the air that
drives me home;
gives me comfort
behind warm glass.
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