Digging It

There are fallow times for every writer:  periods when the writing, though written, lacks something.  That's when looking back can help one look ahead.

Here's a poem I unearthed from my 2012 poetic journal, a piece I wrote back on February 23.  Reading it now, I can see that it's not too bad.  The day must have been cloudy and my experience was best summarized as melancholy, I suppose.

Nevetheless, here it is. 

The Cloudy Day

What to make of gray
And the lack of desire
That a gray day brings
Is most illuminating
In its plainness.

And what one might
Learn to appreciate
In overcast skies
Is nothing if
Nothing is paradise.

Even the birds
Become landlubbers
On a day overcast
With lack of blue
When the sun won't last
And the shadows do.