Drifting in Grey
Tarnished silver never bothered me
Nor the soot from the chimney sweep
Or the dust storm behind the couch
But the thought that I may never again
See dirty snow dripping from your boots
On the mat inside the front door
Left me dreaming in a sea of loneliness
Just before waking
—Natalie Detert
Gray dead branch, sticking into bare pink skin, leaves
Scarlet bloody mark leaves
Rusty scab and yellow bruise leaves
Purple shiny scar.
So much color from gray.
—Perri McGowan
Tibetan icicles will be forming soon
in Dharamsala
and I won't be there to acknowledge them.
Have the thunderstorms arrived in full force?
Can you see them gathering
above the mountains in the distance,
just waiting to flood the streets?
Are the waters drenching your socks
as they drenched mine?
Is there a taxi waiting to take you home?
… … ...
People always talk about snowflakes floating lazily through the air and I have to wonder . . . maybe they're just tired.
—Molly Sutton
