Grey everything

Sometimes, you sit down, and there aren’t words for the day.

You’ve tapped the bottom of the keg.

Familiar low-grade mania visits me during this editing lull.

The weather swinging wildly along.

News that normally slides past me brings tears and chills.

Scared for my country’s future.

Surgery day is artificially remote on my emotional horizon.

Another fragile moment of relief.

The sky is grey;

the world is grey;

I am grey.

Everything teetering on the edge of

sliding back into winter, and

nothing is as it s...