The Way, Early Spring

Gray wraps the morning harbor
and when I raise the blind, I think:
a grim, gray day, the way the clouds
hang straight-mouthed, wordless.
But when I look again, determined,
I see across the flat water buildings
leaning their golds and reds into the bay,
and above these a gull sailing, lifting
first one side, then another, to catch the wind.
Here is the word of white, the word of grace,
the word of a single life out looking for food,
and I remember to call the day good,
to call the gray man with his gray bag
on a gray street good,
the way I should.

Nearly Spring

Nearly Spring

One thought on “The Way, Early Spring

  1. Thank you for the inspiration of “gray being good.” This remains a challenge for all of us in our life’s journey. Beautiful use of gray in the very visual poem makes it lovely.

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