Shades of Grey

“Crackers are short on sparkle.”

― Margaret Mitchell, Gone with the Wind

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Some days are grey

Let’s face it

They are just flat grey

The world outside out window is grey

Our mind is grey and fuzzy

But worst,

That inner place, were we live most deeply

Is shrouded in gray

Wandering into our soul is like slinking through

The wet, dank smelly streets of old London

Hoping not to meet Jack the Ripper

Today thought it was going to be grey

It had great intentions

The fog clung to the ground persistently

Like a newborn baby to its mother

There were shades of gray, the listless gray of sunless snow

Trees were coated with hoar frost

but the light was missing

And then, it wasn’t

a little break and a streak of light

and magic happened

the snow glittered

the hoar frost became nature’s way of putting on the Ritz

blue broke through grey

and even the gray, now hovering over sparkling white

got a personality

some days are like that

it just needs a glimmer, a sliver

of Sacred