I always think "Trees in Fog" is a Sylvia Plath poem ... and then I remember it's "Sheep In Fog". Definitely no sheep here. These trees are at Lighthouse Field in Santa Cruz.
The morning fog is retreating to the ocean, but I'll still give you that poem about the sheep:
The hills step off into whiteness.
People or stars
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.
The train leaves a line of breath.
O slow
Horse the colour of rust,
Hooves, dolorous bells ----
All morning the
Morning has been blackening,
A flower left out.
My bones hold a stillness, the far
Fields melt my heart.
They threaten
To let me through to a heaven
Starless and fatherless, a dark water.
[I looked it up here.]
"The far fields melt my heart." Kills me every time I read that line.
The morning fog is retreating to the ocean, but I'll still give you that poem about the sheep:
The hills step off into whiteness.
People or stars
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.
The train leaves a line of breath.
O slow
Horse the colour of rust,
Hooves, dolorous bells ----
All morning the
Morning has been blackening,
A flower left out.
My bones hold a stillness, the far
Fields melt my heart.
They threaten
To let me through to a heaven
Starless and fatherless, a dark water.
[I looked it up here.]
"The far fields melt my heart." Kills me every time I read that line.
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