Fog did not appear often over the pond, and then it was usually early in the morning, before the sun rose high enough and became hot enough to burn it off. To celebrate its rare, magical appearance, I wrote this little poem:
Fog      
I raised my shade at first light.
Fog was layered upon its bed,
Still a-slumber from the night.  
When the Sky above flamed red,
Fog lofted greetings to the day.
As Sun topped the distant hill, 
Fog roused itself, slipped away.
Did I dream, elbows on the sill?   
               
Ron Cohen © 2006
The last photo in this series, I dubbed the Swan of Tuonela, in honor of Jean Sibelius' exquisite tone poem by that name, about a mythical swan floating through the realm of the dead. You can view a fine orchestral performance here, with superb playing of the swan’s "voice" by the English horn.
January 2, 2006, 7:18 am

March 13, 2006, 6:29 am

December 5, 2011, 8:39 am

October 27 2012, 7;52 am

May 7, 2013, 6:02 am, "The Swan of Tuonela"

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