Children, family, Motherhood, Nature, Poetry, Prose

Gray Day

The sky is much grayer lack of light and still prayer.

Tree bark darker wet mud dragged up stairs.

No grayer will be in that Michigan sky, mournful woes sad goodbyes.

Sad goodbyes to bright sun that shocks eyes now in May…

Appears a huge orb high in the sky,

We say “What’s that big orange disc by day?”

Who hides behind clouds that we hate.

Oh please dear sun, we beg for your warmth,

We can’t take one more grate of this fate.

My son says, “I don’t know what is better, gray sky or the snow?”,

His smug face looks at me with a smirk.

He’s eighteen and he’s jibbing his mother so low

But he’s serious, he prefers this to hurt,

The hurt of the sun burning down on his face shining wonderful light in his eyes

He was born in a snowbank at the end of this month

Eighteen short years as I rank.

I’ll forgive him this time as there won’t be much more

Of his smart alec ways to imbibe

He’s going away, out my front door

And that’s when my heart may just die.

courage4

 

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