Freeverse

Every day is like a painting,
a canvas always depicting some scene,
or a  shade from the colorwheel displaying some emotion...
Awash at the break of every new day,
filled by the time my head hits the pillow.
Some days the canvas is filled with streets,
sunshine, and the look of new people.
A farmers market down the block,
a whizzing bike rider passing me as I walk downhill.
Some days it is grey, as the lake and the sky,
on a drizzling lakeside mid morning.
The kind of weather that leaves your hands hungry for that
warm cup of coffee you forgot on the counter.
The kind of weather that makes you grateful
for remembering your hoodie and mitts,
as you and the kids rush out the door to meet the day.
This morning was that kind of somber expression.
Now the sun streaks from behind the clouds
and wells up a warmth that spills on my face.
I stand under the old maple tree on the boulevard,
I feel the leaves shading my eyes, and hear them rustle..
just one last time until they drop out of life and into the quiet.