Monday, 19 January 2009

It's a grey day

One of the reasons I, and many others, spend their winters in the Baja is the seeming impossibility of endless days of naked sun pouring down from transparent skies. In my particular case I have found that I am extraordinarily susceptible to the influence of the weather and so desperately crave this winter dream. As the sky clears, so, generally, do my spirits. When, as is inevitable, the blue perfection of Baja skies are marred by the intrusion of clouds trumpeting the passing of a winter “Pineapple Express”, the closing of the heavens reflects my darker thoughts.

The closing of the heavens

On this incongruously named Sunday
A heaviness of grey permeates the town
Sucks familiar colour from the world

This is not the coquettish grey of springtime mist
Heat buried in refreshing damp coolness
Ready to reveal all when shamelessly seduced by the sun

No, this is the winter grey of ennui
Begat from surfeits of necessary losses
From watching the watcher in the mirror grow older
In a shrinking universe of possibilities

A grey that washes away the glittery brilliance
That often blinds our senses
To reveal the wounded flaws in all the structures of our life
The cracks in our buildings, untended relationships

The grey we try to push away
To revel in the affirmation of sunshine
Only for it to return, fortified

The wise grey bird sits patiently
Silhouetted against the grey sky
On the stilled dead branches of the grey tree
As it has always done
Graciously immune to vagaries of the weather.

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