"The fog comes, on little cat feet.
It sits looking over harbor and city.
On silent haunches, and then moves on"
Sometimes when I first wake up, I feel as if I'm walking around in a fog. And SOMETIMES when I first wake up, I am lucky enough to find I really AM walking around in a fog.
I love how fog can transform the familiar into the ethereal. A dreamy state in morning mist. Cloaked in a blanket of fog, biding time til the sun will break thru and disperse the world back to reality. Yep, coffee works the same way with my morning foggy head. But it isn't quite so pretty.