Clearly you've never watched a cat move. Equally clearly you've never seen wisps drift in from the bay, or seen a sea fret move in, sttod on the beach and watched the haar on rhe waves, or stood on a hilltop and watched flog-clouds drift by below you. Sad.
I lived near San Francisco while I grew up, and enjoyed seeing the fog come on little cat feet. It is very silent and glides lithely along. Light from the setting sun tinges it yellow gold. In the Bay Area the fog is as omnipresent as the green hills, the sights, sounds, and smells of the City, the waters of the bay, and the majestic sight of the two bridges. I love the fog and I love the City.
. The simple metaphor and imagery in this poem are awesome beyond compare! With six simple lines he sends our imaginations every which way! His metaphor is surprising but so apt- why didn't we think of it? We can feel a lot of different emotions being evoked- praise for its beauty, awe, fear, dread of something in the fog...Just think about the silent way fog creeps in and lies over the streets, just think of what it might muffle- approaching footsteps, something lurking in the white murk, the day becoming mysterious and -
i think that this poem is really a metiphor for how life is and functions. One day the perfect girl comes you hesitate the next thing you know she's gone. Also life in general you come from work and you go to get your daily dose od mcdonalds you swallow and you have a heart attack and die at age thirty two. Your life is gone just like the fog.