a pearly dawn, muted and gray
The light is subtle and everything is shadowy,
the edges softened; the trees faint, rounded shapes
peeking up through the fog.
There is a park behind my house,
dimly seen this morning because of the mist.
It looks strange/otherworldly/alien.
Everything is wet from last nightıs rain,
the branches soaked, their leaves stuck together,
slapped up against the limbs and twigs, plastered there,
like clothing on a too wet body.
Now, as the sun grows stronger,
the pale shapes of the trees back behind my house
loom taller, as if stretching to their full height,
impatient for the meager warmth. They take shape and color,
brown and brighter green when, just minutes ago,
standing in the subdued light,
they were blurry figures,
grayish black with olive colored foliage.
There is no color in the sky, it is white, clouded, overcast.
But it is very early morning.
It may yet become a hot and hazy,
long and lazy, sunny summerıs day.
It could go either way.
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