For This Moment Only
It is not exactly fog, this pervasive grey.
You can see for miles to the colorless horizon.
You have learned the art of capturing details,
a thousand shades of grey in the morning
and you can see them all.
Color will come. You know this.
Patience and time will release the sun.
The ocean will turn blue. The sky, bluer still.
The sun will burn the air, bright and yellow.
Seagulls will fly.
But here, in the morning, before the color comes,
you have a choice. To surrender,
of dance in the grey, whether you feel it or not.
Especially when you do not.
And so you listen to the music in your head,
no matter whether it is a hymn or a dirge
or the pounding rhythm of the Stones,
and dance away the grey that has, for this moment,
and this moment only,
swallowed your world.
About this poem
Depression lives. But I am way tougher than it is. And a better dancer.
And the Rolling Stones are playing here at my favorite diner, where I wrote this.
The picture was taken at Cape Cod. At Marconi Beach if I remember correctly.