The Gray-
a poem...
This gray day now rising from most reluctant mists, Cold rain dropping down from an uninforming sky, whispering, murmuring, chortling from the eaves, drains, puddled like fresh grief or near forgotten joy, mingling with the sodden soil, swelling thirsty roots and eager buds; tomorrow will bring us sun and blue; All that flowery brilliance coming, mere weeks away.
Walk in hope-
-henry




Yes, if we can get a little moisture, even fog might be welcomed, flowers are coming and I'm glad...