Fauxku Choo Choo (the play's the thing)

[just mercedes]

partially stolen from:

    Fog   -   Carl Sandburg

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

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

I always thought Sandberg stole that from T S Eliot anyway - from Prufrock

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes, 
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes, 
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening, 
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains, 
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys, 
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap, 
And seeing that it was a soft October night, 
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep. 

---

The fog rolls in on little cat feet,
as i'm frying up a batch of fern fronds.
Out my window sits the harbor...
paradise.


The world rolls along
on the curl of the koru*.
Every window here
opens on paradise.



https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Koru*