A Rainy Day Walk.
Gray is nuanced. It is layered in colors with hesitant margins. It falls to earth as it climbs to sky and is invisible in-between.
Gray is timid and overlooked. It smells of dust and is soft as cotton. On skin it trickles down through sweat and salt, and calms tension between so many small lines. It washes away irritation in unbroken chains and settles in mirrored pools.
Gray reflects all it surrounds but holds color deeply buried. Look down, look close, every shade of blue and green will fill your eyes and fill the space above you.
Earth is thirsty. Gray rests upon its surface, patient and persistent, then devoured in greedy gulps. The soothing fall of measured drops are almost a tease – something more may come this way.
I walk home covered in gray, through gray shadow and reflection, following gray streets and beige grass. Shots of red and purple and orange lean over in the gray – not as defiant as when standing in sun.
This gray is welcome and enjoyed. Welcome, as long as it turns to blue.