I awoke on a gray winter morning.
Gentle rain patted the roof above me.
It silvered the grass and the ground.
Washed away the dust,
The chalk drawings,
And footprints.
After a while, I rose from those warm rippled sheets
And made my way downstairs
In the coolness of the quiet house.
I hunched over coffee by the slatted window
Gazed out into the muted light
Through the drizzly arms of cold bare trees.
Silence, stillness.
My worries, like the chalk, like the footprints, had faded
Washed away by that slow rain
Out there In the mist-veiled distance.
–Gregg Seipp Copyright 2007
