A Poem That Reminds Me of San Francisco

I stayed at a hotel in San Francisco this weekend. From the hotel room on the fourteenth floor, I could see the fog come in. In the San Francisco Bay Area, fog comes in from the ocean in the evening. The fog usually stays until morning, and then it goes back to the ocean. It helps keep us cool! I love the fog.

Here is a famous poem about fog:

by Carl Sandburg (1878-1967)

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

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

Does it make sense?

The fog comes in silently, like a cat. The fog covers the city for a while. (To “sit on [one’s] haunches” is to squat [if you’re a human]. Just picture a cat sitting there.) Then it leaves.

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