Little puddles visit and grow on the planks of the deck while
at the railing tiny drops of rain hang precariously on the underside.
The early dawn’s grey horizon is tinged with pink and just above
the roof tops it changes to a delicate blue with wisps of cottony clouds.
This sunrise plane, a mixture of very soft hues framed by dark ones,
and the solitary quietness of landscape life brings me little warmth to my mind.
The leafless, darkened, rain soaked tree branches, as well, draw a fretwork of
mazes that control any attempt for me to take a flight of fantasy into the blue.
And, so I sit, without hope of escape, till later when rays of gold pierce the grey
and warm my mind and make me free to move into a new day’s flight.