greyness, JB

A morning starts,
a gentle breeze
glad, grey clouds
and swaying trees
little words with
little melodies
the throat wells
a gentle tease
for vulnerability.

Plaintive stories
of falling snow,
of Denver and DC
tragedy, Mexico;
the striking blue
of robin’s eggs
permeating colour
the last dregs
of lost love.
Seasonal lovers;
of red telephones,
strangers’ beds
and autumn tones;
a wish, watercolours
on the sidewalk
a child never had,
would they talk
of possibilities.

A morning starts
now colder drafts
escalator rings
a routine wafts
in a tired mind.
Little words with
long silences
stirred thoughts
from idle devices;
hush, now.