On Gray Days

On gray days

The horizon blurs

Distinctions of the sky & sea

Heaven seems to be wrapping

Itself around the world’s edges

But without the cosmic glory

Nature is but washed pine

Antique wax burnished

By steel wool 


On the water

The colorful boats

Pass faded in dull formation

The crew members below deck

Peer into the bottom of the mugs

Wondering if it is still too early

For some whisky in the coffee

Or if they should go

Check their lines


On the shore

Chimney smoke curls

Lazily from the vacation cabins

The smoldering driftwood salted

From riding far on the winter tides

And on the beach a solitary figure

Stoops to examine a black rock

Wondering what keeps

Human hearts cold


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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2 Responses to On Gray Days

  1. idyllic until that sock-on-the-nose ending


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