On Little Cat Feet

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
--Carlos Sandburg, Fog

Election day yesterday reminded me of where I was four years ago, and it startled me to realize that I was already a junior in college at that time. The way I felt as I approached my senior year of college was so different from the way I feel now. 

No matter how fast time flies by, and as much as I loved everything I read in college, I always find myself going back to American poetry. Especially in the fall and winter, when it's cold and I feel nostalgic for the pages of my old Nortons.

There's just something there.