Fog for me

Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog with linguists and contenders,
I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait.

~ Walt Whitman: From Song of Myself (1855)

Carol and I left for work this morning at our usual 6am, dark with a bit of fog as we crested Ledge Hill and made our way along the roads to get to the interstate. After passing the stately farmhouse and following the downward winding road we were swallowed up by some of the thickest fog I've ever tried to drive through. It was all I could do to see either the centerline or the edge of the road in the same glance. Fortunately the interstate's fog was nowhere near as dense, we picked up Lois on our way and made it to our destination with no further problem.