Not that dirty gray-brown of warmer but smoggy climes:
A soft, misty gray that soothes the eye and calms the soul.
The mist descends to pour over the hills,
Drifting through the firs,
Wrapping the world in a fuzzy gray comforter.
Gray is the perfect setting, enhancing the earth’s green
From somber firs to bright maples
And the myriad shades of green in my water-fat garden
Where deer amble around the fence, pretending nonchalance
Searching for the magic portal
That will grant them access to the tempting delicacies within.
