Fog and Crows

A quiet blanket of fog has descended over DC. I love the fog. It feels as if it’s something you can stand behind, cloaked, like a two-way mirror. It also encases everything in a frame so it stands out, like this crow. I had a black crow once but it left and flew south. I think about that crow all the time. In winter, at the Wharf, you see entire flocks of crows converge at sunrise, a morning ritual for them. I think it is their first stop before onward to the next. Resilient creatures, enduring despite the scarcity.