Fog Bank

This morning, the fog was so thick that anything could've been outside of the window. I could've been looking at Mt. Baker, the steam hidden by a white wall. It could've been the prairies, far below the window of my airplane. It could've been a forest of people, standing, facing the windows, waiting to walk out of the darkness, like the opening scene from Coast of Utopia. But when the winds started pushing against the windows, making them shake and shudder, the wall of white lifted and I saw the barge tethered to the far shore, anchored against the coming storm.