Gray is the shade of the day,
it settles over everything,
a fine dusting of dull light.
The streets are dry,
gritty with winter debris.
The pavement reflects the sky’s pallor.
The things the vision wills upon the mind,
colors and textures that take us back and forth
in memory and time.
The press of the past’s unbearable weight is too much.
The pull of the future’s inevitability is too much.
This day is heavy enough.
It is a good day to let the self unwind and unwind
into a dream, leaving ghosts in my wake,
letting time be the measure of meanwhile.