When the fog glides in overland, one never knows what comes in with it. The blanket of gray lies in striations such that in some pockets of elevation one can see clearly while at others one can’t see hand before face. Oh, they do love to lay in wait in those fluffy layers. You may see them as a glimpse of movement out of the corner of your eye, but their beastly gray bellies blend into the ephemeral wall. They are insubstantial and cannot attack body, but do prey upon a hapless mind. Sometimes, in the distance, you hear:
Oh, the beast she keens and moans
in such beastly sing-song tones.