Rolling in across the land
Over fields of dirt and sand
Pushed by a small, cool, breeze
The eeriness puts you not at ease

Flying in like solemn ghosts
Often prevalent around the coasts
A strange weather phenomenon
Now it's here, soon it's gone

Visibility drops, and you can't see
Yet the fog is the cool place to be
Wet inside, your clothes get soaked
Even those nearby are easily cloaked