Etude in Gray

The day is frozen
underneath its gray roof –
the absence of the sun
and the anticipation of
its measure

gives way to glacial time,
marked by the intervals of a crow’s caw

and the eras of
the inward eye.


Noise – the chattering
permutations of
multiplying ripples,
the interlocking periods
of cricket calls,

and now cicadas –

loses its rhythm,
adds a new
nothingness to its shell,
turns its face
from the human lens,
goes back to sleep
as unpatterned data.


The still grey light is
suspended in mid-air;
the clouds catch their hue
of the rocks that menace them;
the crow fixes its nest
in the absence of shadow.