Grey dawn gathers its felt napkin,
Drops it in my lap a lead apron.
Grey silences ambition...
Contentment flourishes.
Greyness suspends animation;
Suppresses all sense of urgency.
Swathes all thoughts in reverie,
Gauze-bound carefully immobilized;
Waiting on a motivation immune
From outward influences.

Grey turns the clock to the wall.
Hours advance, but do not rule.
The morning grows dark with cloud.
Heavy with atmospheric method,
Cloaked in thunder�s vibration and voice.
Reason rises to the surface,
A cream of refreshment.
Rain drops spot concrete,
And add gloss to leaves.
Trees blend to green clouds of shadow.
Sanctuaries of silence;
Refuge for birds subdued and patient.

Rain asserts itself with sound,
Greeted by birdsong.
Leaves bob and mince,
Tapped by drops as they pass.
Fretfulness has melted
With the coming of day.
No nervous energy of bright light
To sharpen senses,
Or focus attention on motion.
The green and the grey dominate
With benevolence and comfort.
All is well watered;
All else may well wait on the watering.
Haste has lost its impetus,
Worry wastes away.
Even desire is droopy eyed,
Lulled and off its guard.
There is too much sweetness
To intrude with plans and promises.

Green and grey deposit their weight
Settling steadily into every limb.
Even hands find little to do
But chase this wonder with words.
Hoping to catch a whiff
In a lyrical jar.
Screw down the lid tightly;
And keep it safe
For a brighter day.



�2006 by Neil C. leach, Jr.
posted 1/19/07