The fog comes
on little cat feet.

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

I performed this poem in a poetry slam in college.  I literally took the lines about the cat’s little feet and integrated cat-like movements into my routine.  Ever since then, I’ve liked this poem.  I’ve picked up a Complete Poem book of Sandberg’s, but haven’t sat down to read it properly.  I’ll have to do that one of these days.

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