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.