Fog on the Beach

We sat on the beach,

Baylee on a leash,

to watch the fog roll in.

Roiling from the north

covering houses like smoke,

curling and smothering sound.

Muted waves crashed.

tide coming in, inching closer

to our toes wave by wave

Gulls stand with sandpipers,

standing on one leg

all in a line, watching

Sun glowed through,

a soft light bathed,

eerily creating fog shadows

Storm-grey blue and green,

bright white foam,

Tan sand and green grass

I touch my hair; it is dripping.

moist dots on Baylee's fur

like sequins.

 Wet thick fog envelopes.

wispy tendrils float

inland over the dunes.

Collecting shells, the sand flies

when we shake the towel

and head for home.