Early Morning in a World of Blue and Gray

Dense mist canvases the earth with its fragile curtain,
The swirling wisps gently kissing and whispering to the silent ground,
Teasing and enticing the cold, gray pebbles;

Just as faintly, the tiny azure waves break against the soft, silky sand of the shore,
Each one followed by the next in an endless succession,
Beating their serene rhythm with noiseless fortitude;

The gulls slip silently in and out of the gray haze above,
Their stiff feathers remaining montionless as they glide,
Creating miniature, swirling whirlpools in the clouds on the tips of their wings;

A wrinkled, old man steps quietly among the ashen rocks that line the shore,
His face withered into deep canyon by years of the sea,
Pausing a moment to look out upon the vast world of blue and gray in front of him;

He squints his eyes a bit, straining to glimpse off into the distance,
But those deep sapphire spheres sparkle bright with recognition when he sees it.