79. Grey

I’ve been away – physically away (and parted from the internet for a while) and mentally away since my return. The poem below probably sums it up. The picture is, of course, the Guggenheim in Bilbao, which we visited on a cold grey January day.


Cold grey

Not the crisp off-white chill of ice or snow

Not the warm grey of clouds of summer rain

A dull day


Grey thoughts

Not the frisson of grey approaching dusk

Not the warm grey sea of semi-dreaming

Dull thoughts


Grey life

No tinge of green, blue, gold, emergent spring

No warmth of summer or of autumn colours gleaming

Just grey


Grey skies

No other colour except beige dry grass

Nothing quickening the winter mind

A grey day

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