Along the Maine coast, the landscape features sunken river valleys and many islands. Often, morning fogs form silver and grey rivers that seem to be flowing towards the sea.
Yet, even carefully attending to local details that you think you know, there seems to be a great mystery. The landscape beneath is entirely hidden by a cloudscape; except for small islands protruding from the flow.
For the time it lasts, before the sun burns off the fog banks, great spectacles or mysteries could lie under what you once thought was known terrain.
The fog gradually retreats, and the land seems to say, ” the known and the knowable have won.” But the great banks of fog lie just outside the harbor and mutter the riposte, “it’s alright, I’ll return.”