Fog by Carl Sandburg
The fog comes
on little cat feet.It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
IF you have questions, you can email theNothing Gold Can Stay
Robert Frost
Nature's first green is gold
Her hardest hue to hold
Her early leaf's a flower
But only so an hour
Then leaf subsides to leaf
So Eden sank with grief
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay