The Beauty of Subtleties
the beauty of subtleties
there are one thousand shades of grey
each separate and distinct
across this desert month.
low gravid clouds puffed,
like the breasts of flocking doves
touch the earth transforming
to pearlescent, pale white gauze
caught in reaching branches.
steely water on the bay,
life sheltered far below,
rolls smooth as oil swells
dappled with foam.
ancient almost-dust leaves
kick up on my boot toe
as I scuffle through the wood
between beach and silver birch.
an owls lonely cry echoes
as it brushes by overhead
softsilent perhaps hunting
field mice or rabbits
November is gentle
in its iron frosts. calm, still,
as though waiting
a canvas barely sketched upon.
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