Somebody spilled milk into the bowl of the world.
Or a cloud got lazy and slouched down
To loll on the sea and spread out,
Sighing at not having to stay up in the sky,
Wrapping boats in cottonwool,
Melting the sky into the water.
Bandaging its feet, muffling its ears,
So everything is sensory-deprived.
Seagulls swoop overhead
Wondering why they can’t see anything
Except fog-blurred bushes and houses.
People loom out of the fog
As if they were gentle giants
Wading through milk.