Cast In Gray

The day begins
terribly: a cold sky
cast in grays, grays.
Coffee too weak,
no appetite again,
the dog snarls at me,
I spray my leg
at the urinal, then
trudge in snow
with a wet pantleg
to a bleak studio.
Scraping dry paint,
pushing a stiff brush
that smears mud
on a lifeless palette,
unyielding canvas
shows gray where
blue oil was placed.
Where’s the color?
Early snowfall-
Indian Summer-
gone? Gone!
What use this life?
Oh, but just then,
glorious, glorious,
the sun emerges,
a white butterfly
and then another,
even a damselfly!
The dog’s tail wags,
the pantleg dries,
gold leaves drift
in a sapphire sky.
Blue sky? Blue oil?
Lord, blue oil.