Like a Late Turner Painting

The sky looks like a Turner painting. At the high point it’s brighter,even golden cream Like the top of a bottle of Jersey milk; then it dims down to a bluey gray with a slight threat in it like a blacker gray…It’s Too warm today for snow. I swept brown dried leaves from the step.. Had to move my bike. Then I hid them under the hedge So they can keep some insects warm in the winter. But mainly I don’t want to bend down to collect them,, I’m tired or lazy after the weekend. I still have a dress here I was ironing just a week or two ago. Now it will be put away till next summer. Here’s a denim jacket with flowers all over… I did wear it but it won’t look right now. I washed my hair.It feels soft and pleasant. I like that feeling.I am wondering what you are doing. Are you listening to music or resting? Or sitting looking down the road at wet fields? I think I’ll make some tea. I need a focus for the day which also has a feeling Like those late watercolors Everything merging Until one thing dissolves into an other. Some people like it but today I need some edge,some definition. I need someone to give me boundaries. Time 4 pm Kettle boils and a neighbor’s cat peers by the locked cat flap… Wondering why she can’t get in. I turn away. Now the sky is without any gold It’s fifty shades of gray. It’s clouded dark and soft Like your hair might have been But I could never have touched it… You were always too far away and moving.....