Scene: A foggy morning. Breakfast.
Characters: Maia and I.
We talk about the foggy morning, observing its beauty and mystery. I offer to read her "Fog" by Carl Sandburg, and she agrees. She interrupts me at the end of every line, delighting in the words and images.
"The fog comes in
on little cat feet."
"Like a kitty! Da fog is like a kitty!"
"Yes! Soft and quiet, like a kitty. 'It sits looking over harbor and city..."
"Harbor! Just like what we have! We have a harbor!"
"Yep, and it's foggy, isn't it? 'On silent haunches..."
"What's a haunch?"
"It's like its bottom."
"...and then moves on."
"I said, 'And then moves on.' "
"Oh. I t'ought you said 'And den you die.' "
* * *
Matt, later: "No, that's Creeping Death."