Fog Creeps in on Little Cat Feet ( Robert Frost )

Fog creeps in on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches, and then moves on. ( Robert Frost ) The fog came in the night to fill the woods and surround the cabin. Gypsy and I will not see the sunrise today. It is quiet and peaceful as we greet the day. Gypsy pursues a toad as she keeps a sharp eye on the feeding area. The deer, rabbits and squirrels might come to feed at any moment. This is exciting stuff to a nine year old English Pointer. Me too. The wooden porch furniture is moist from the fog. I should get a paper towel and wipe it off, but, I don't. I might miss something. The candle in the lantern flickers around the damp cabin porch. The hot expresso in my hand feel comforting in the almost cold , damp morning air. We hear no sound except the song of a nearby Cardinal. The fog has covered our usual morning view. The hills have disappeared into the soft, gray cloud. The sun is hiding there as well. The song of the woods is mysterious as the fog takes on the shape of strange creatures as it moves though the woods towards the cabin porch. It leaves a layer of moisture on us as it lingers in the candle light, keeping us company until it moves on. We see the first morning light filter through the foggy trees. The moon flowers are blooming on Gypsy's fence next to the porch. The angel patch is quiet. ( Flower garden, lined with stones and dotted with small, angel statues in front of the porch ) Another beautiful morning has come to us from the woods. We join the fog creatures and let the wood,s story drift over us as we watch the morning unfold. Gypsy will come in soon and take her morning snooze. The morning has been pondered. The cabin Gang