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Weary
January 28, 2017
There are days when
The sky is mourning its
Sea-sparkle blue.
A thin coating of
White shudders above
And frowns at the ground.
The trees are bare and empty.
The grass has lost its sheen.
The flowers sulk in silence.
At night, rich onyx streaks the empyrean.
The hunters and lions shimmering
In the sky are dappled with
Melancholy nothingness.
These are days when the world
Is holding its breath, waiting
To let it out.
© Aaron B., Eagan, MN
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