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The Gray Gift

The Gray Gift

 

For the moment,

There is a blanket over everything

Like the one I woke up under

Anticipation of a holiday, perhaps

The blanket is light gray

It settles easily as it’s made up

Of daylight

I’m not sure what we might have done

To earn such protection and

And of

Muted beauty

 

It’s a quiet gift

And will last as long as diaphanous things

Might

Maybe longer, since nature

Knows the way around Main Street

Over it (upon it)

To serve it

And to keep it going

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by wilsan u on Unsplash

I don’t know where this is, but it’s somewhere.

 

0

Pre-Dawn

Pre-Dawn

 

Birds are noisy

Waking up the rest

Of the world

 

Mist along the

Edges of the yard

A damp feel

 

Light enough for

Artificial lamps

Turning useless

 

Now earth turns

Over a bit to be

Washed by the

 

Day’s new air

Bending without

Voice the arcs

 

Of branches

Enough for them

To moan a little

 

Wind cleans night

With round beads

Of dew water

 

Surprise and

Comfort in the

Dawning tasks

6

Second-Storey Moor

Second-Storey Moor

On a misty-morning
Winter January day,
I look out the window

All I see is fog and
Lack of definition
Except for one tree
Of bare branches

Reaching black into
My windowed sky

I didn’t expect the
Art and science of
This: skillful, narrow
Firm and slender
Branches reaching

With a clarity that
Startles a black vision
Against smoky
Pervasive mist

Grey behind each
Branch, rendering
All else vague

What is familiar
Now is mystery
And invitation

4

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