The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
I've always loved that poem. Apparently the birds are not worried about those "little cat feet" as they visit the feeders and forage on the ground for seeds. It may be my imagination, but they seem more active and lively on rainy days.
As for me, I've had a busy morning and I am looking forward to a late lunch. I think I will fix a nice hot bowl of clam chowder and curl up on the couch with a good book. It's a little chilly, so I'll probably throw my afghan around my shoulders.
There's nothing like a foggy, drizzly, chilly day!