One misty, moisty morning....

One misty, moisty, morning,
When cloudy was the weather,
There I met an old man
All clothed in leather

All clothed in leather,
With a cap under his chin.
How do you do?
And how do you do?
And how do you do again?

The weather this morning recalled this nursery rhyme to mind. The first two lines are exactly what I can see out of the window. The downs and the sea have disappeared completely.

I can still hear birds, that are in the giant climbing rose outside the conservatory, cheeping but apart from that the fog is blanketing the noise from the world within its damp embrace.

I like this one called Fog by Carl Sandburg too....

The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over the harbour and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.