Fog

A sea fog rolled in from the gulf late this afternoon and as the evening settles in it descends upon my little acre.                                                                                                                               In the orange glow of my neighbor’s street light I see the silhouette of the weary spanish moss. It hangs like a beard giving testimony to the age of the live oak trees, blurring now in the thickening fog, adding years to years. – Peter Kuhn

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