Fog Remembers the Redwoods (a poem)

A friend and I were discussing the weather, how it is so much foggier at his house, which is a mere dozen miles from mine. Explaining that the fog moves up his river valley, he said that "the fog remembers the redwoods." Struck by the lyricism of this image, I wrote the following poem.


Fog remembers the redwoods,
Early morning whispers,
Quiet conversations, caresses
Soft and slow;
Remembers drifting up river to
Nestle into strong arms,
Moisten dark earth, murmur secrets
hushed and low;
Remembers draping muted stillness
Around ancient shoulders.

Fog remembers the redwoods,
Misses the trees,
Still drifts silently along the river
Sighing, seeking repose.