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Color permeates much of my thinking, story scenes often arrive in rich Kodachrome tones.
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Yet, recently I found myself journaling through an overcast morning and realized that gray carries its own intensity. Gray seeps in: a mist, a smoke, a smudge, a dense gauze, a cloud-written sonnet, a drift that obscures blue and summons cemeteries out of past ashes.
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Gray tallies seasons of green, teal, gold, burnt umber. Gray slips into slumber and preens the glossy feathers of the winged dreamer. Gray inhabits concrete like a flat ghost and alters the shimmering view. Gray gives birth to every rainbow.
The Writer Elkhound and I wish you a reflective and happy 4th of July.
Thora adds, batten down the hatches and keep your powder dry.
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