Fog

The fog comes on little cat feet - it does not announce itself loudly but enters softly and quietly, like a small cat walking.

The poem begins with the fog's arrival: it comes "on little cat feet." The metaphor at once gives the fog the gentle, stealthy movement of a cat - no sound, no warning, only sudden presence.

The fog sits looking over harbour and city on silent haunches - like a cat crouching quietly and observing everything below.

The fog "sits looking over harbour and city on silent haunches." It rests in a cat-like posture, covering the landscape while seeming to watch it. Harbour and city disappear into its still, grey presence.

And then the fog moves on - just as quietly as it came, without drama, like a cat that leaves when it chooses.

The final line - "and then moves on" - completes the cat metaphor. The fog does not stay forever; it departs as silently as it arrived, leaving the harbour and city changed only for a little while.