I watched the fog come in today,
pushing cold air out of the bay,
to where I stood barefoot, a traveler,
the sun became veiled, plans unraveled.

Cool May day at fifty two Fahrenheit,
fog shrank and shifted from grey to white,
rolled slowly  gaining size over crests of each,
rock face, all the way to every bridge and beach.

We chose a different path and drive,
Napa and Sonoma Valleys, so alive,
101 was the temp not the route,
stop counting the signs of repute.

I'll go back one day,
for in this life I have
                in no way,
tasted enough.