A pale Burnt umber holds all the colors of autumn down
Skeleton twigs reach from murky depths
My lungs are aching, a cold steel breeze
A concrete path
Bone white feathers floating in air
No sounds of
waterfowl or stubborn birds
Anywhere near
A long silent walk across a gray field
Sinking in the grayness of a winter day
Where the body aches
And the eyes crave any color
Even the sunset is sick and pale
The flu is running rampant
Hospital beds and white sheets
The gray steel windows sills
Seeking any hint of spring
Walking along a path by a pond
Alone
Again…
A pale green window
reflects the forest
ghostly limbs
remember being
spring
skeleton fingers
reach a pale gray sky
a ghost in the silence
an empty landscape
a darkness
with no shadows
a landscape with no light
the only color is foreign
the vague scent of decay
stagnation
The only ghost of summers humid days
a pale green pond
moves slowly but steadily
remember being
spring
