Foggy foggy river






Foggy, foggy river,

Shivers, sending ripples racing,

Tracing the earth’s stretching,

Fetching the gulls in from the sea.

Trees, stark black, leaf fall flutter,

Shutters creak, damply swinging,

Flinging droplets wide, dripping,

Slipping in muddy patches,

Snatches of song floating past,

Last night’s paper lying, soggy,

Foggy, foggy river.


Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

27 thoughts on “Foggy foggy river”

      1. My impression of fog varies with the setting… Eeriness and foreboding for urban or industrial, but romantic and/or mystical ( 🙂 ) for rural or pastoral.

      2. True. Fog in town, full of traffic fumes, slippery pavements, cars that creep up on you out of nowhere, not pleasant. Trees peeping through the mist is different entirely.


      1. Pretty countryside. We’re still looking for the dream home. The nicest places in our budget are too far into the wilds of the Périgord—too cold for me 🙂


  1. I love this one–especially evocative. Damp, gray, drippy. (I write this while the sun is happily shining for a few minutes here.)

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