Friday poetry challenge: single-sentence prose poem

This morning on the way to work I saw cotton-candy pink fog hanging languidly over the river and wondered what combination of natural forces could produce such a phenomenon, so different from the other types of fog I've observed this semester--the students feeling their way (already!) through a fog of bewilderment, the one whose peculiar interpretation of a poem relied on misreading of the word "sow" as a verb (the farmer sows the seed) instead of as a noun (the blood of a broody sow), the fog of woe that fills my mind when minority students recount their encounters with local rednecks--and my morning-fogged mind tried to write a poem about fog without going all Carl Sandburg with his little cat feet, but in the end the only thing that emerged from that pink fog was this sentence.

But maybe you can write another one.