Back again: Gold and Gray
Dear friends,
It has been awhile since I have posted here or much of anywhere else. To tell the truth, the last several weeks have been fairly brutal at a personal level—not strange for someone with cPTSD, but difficult to navigate.
I don’t generally write much during such times, and what I do write my better judgment usually forbids me to publish as I know that many of my feelings are neither true in fact nor likely to improve life for others. So I wait until the dust settles and I can glimpse the sun again…
This poem was one of few that managed to arrive during this time, and I think it does deserve to see the world on its own, so here it is. Descriptive of what I saw one day while driving along between rain showers, it was very much a creation of early September.
Cheers!
P.S. To all my friends: I am feeling better now, and it looks like life is going on all right despite the bleakness of these past weeks. XXX
Gold and Gray
Sunflowers, but no sun,
Just low gray overhead--
The air half-mellow and half-chill.
The grass is tangled
In amongst the raindrops.
The swallows’ backs are slick
With darting in and out
While showers fall;
But the hawks sit rumpled,
High in a tree, and glum.
Meantime, the clover grows,
Drinking from the day.
The sunflowers dangle
Their gold tresses grassward
And wait the sun.