Oregon Fog: A Petrarchan Sonnet

Here's a sonnet I wrote following the Petrarchan rhyme scheme (ABBA / ABBA / CDE / CDE). It doesn't quite have that same "wrapping up" feeling you get in the typical English sonnet with its closing couplet ("So long as men shall breathe or eyes shall see / So long lives this, and this gives life to thee"). But it has its merits. 

I've only been to Oregon once. Its moodiness impressed me. So I wrote this to remember it by. How about you, do you memorialize places you've been in some artistic way or another?

Oregon Fog
by Gideon O. Burton

Another thing, not smoke at all, not dry
Nor ashy, something close to water yet
Another thing, not clouds that nestle, set
In lumpy languor on the hillsides, high.
It is a brooding, patient thing, a sigh
These swaying redwoods breathe, a kind of wet
Companion, fingers dangling where they shed
A lacquer for the leaves. It doesn't fly
Away, but lingers in the early, late,
Then dissipates in silence as the trees
Emerge, ungraying, colored, thick with juice,
The grasses, ferns grown glassy in the great
Baptizing morning rite. The paws release,
The captive ground uncaptived, fragrant, loosed. 

Feel free to copy, imitate, remix, or redistribute this poem as long as you give proper acknowledgement of authorship