You should have heard the gulls last night.
They cooed and hawed in the fog over a rising tide.
Wind rippling echos in the mist.
Mist from what is certainly not considered fog anymore, but cloud.
Every once in a while one glides overhead, chattering, on some mission perhaps known only to nature.
Great poem; thank you
Hey! Thank you so much, I really appreciate that, it means a lot!