My husband used to leave me a lot of notes. Sometimes they were long notes, rambling thoughts covering both sides of a page. Sometimes they were just a few lines on a piece of scrap paper. Either way, I loved seeing them. Sometimes it was even poetry, and those were my favorite of all.
Days of Gray
Pre dawn hours
lying in heaven of a favorite bed the rain pounding down
while winds howled. Nor’easter fizzling out no sun coming for dawn
just grayness of the dim light hanging about.
November’s Way weather ushering out warmth of Indian Summer previously here
passing of time we always endear.
Grayness of today is what comes to be sure lessening light
colder days ahead Precipitation not heard in frozen form
Roars of blustery wind keeping life hidden away dying of a season cyclically replayed.
Grayness or not through this lessening light we’ll shine for ourselves later today
meeting with the future, when the world will be bright business today is for
a day next May.
Second book signing scheduled many more following
We’ll take the gray any old day the seeds sewn last year grows close to a year
this winter coming when life is away words will be read, the words we scribed, will not hide
they were written
for those who are alive even through the gray and cold of this November told.