We wait.

There can be an increasing heaviness that slowly presses upon us as rain and fog and wind and pewter light reappear day after day. There also is an increasing anticipation of the return of that special Maine-seacoast-morning-sunlight in which everything is seen as if through a glass of almost orange Pinot gris.

Even lobster traps on the Town dock seem to be waiting for the fog to lift, so that they can take a boat ride and a deep dive. (Brooklin, Maine)