From river rock cliff,
lichen paint and fern,
many -colored walls of rock,
from foaming water over rapids
and the breathing waters
in the lake beyond the bay,
comes evening fog in columns
piled and joined, grown, rising,
rising to the edge of the land.
Looking for a moment to the mountains,
to a touch of light,
to wooded curve and cleft of hills
and turning back, we feel
the grey advance.
Pines begin their beading
needlework of water drops
on this great shroud, cool,
isolater, river mantle, fog.
