New Year’s Day

In the gray of a snow day, raven-black
tree-shadows stripe the mud
where seedlings sleep; elsewhere
sunrise like a campfire lights a sky
in safety orange, somewhere,
but not here, not today.


Is it a lament or a weather report? Must every day be colorful and bright, or can we accept the unique beauty of black and gray?

Inspired by a Paint Chip prompt.

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