Carl Sandburg wrote this little poem:
Fog
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
Tag: Carl Sandburg
He Didn’t Sit In With The Big Thieves
To a Contemporary Bunkshooter
YOU come along … tearing your shirt … yelling about Jesus.
Where do you get that stuff?
What do you know about Jesus
A Celebration of Reading 