In the Sea-Damp Fog

What was intended as a quick errand to drop mail into the postbox turned into a lovely thick amble down the main shopping street near here and then up a side street to Citadel Hill; and along there until reaching the northeast corner entrance to the Public Gardens. I turned in and, as happens sometimes, I had the loveliest sensation of being among friends…and by that I mean the magnolias and the pond with her drooping willows, the azaleas nearly unable to restrain their excitement at what was coming for them, the dandelions turned asterisks that had danced their finale in last night’s ovation of rain. The crows with infinitesimal prismatic droplets of water strewn upon their blackness. It looked as though the moon, the stars, and the night sky had taken on an avian countenance. Contemplative galaxies in flight.
I got that feeling (and if I am honest, still get that feeling) when reading as a child too…All I had to do was open the book and all was alive and waiting for my company, my curiosity, my senses and imagination. 
The half-light rolling tight 
embrace of sea-damp fog 
reminds me of childhood table-tents
where the old double sheet was weighted
with a bright red edition of the Britannica; 
I was fond of choosing the volumes 
that covered a span of letters; somehow that made 
more room underneath for the magic act 
of disappearing 
for a while.
—Kimberly M. King, RSCJ—

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