Damp and dreary today dawns, settles 'round my shoulders with a weary sigh. Mo(u)rning mists my glasses as I shuffle through leaves fast becoming grey; contemplate life slipping away silently without fanfare. No trumpet call, no pretentiousness; just color ebbing, leaving behind something once vibrantly splendid. Even the lake's silvery stillness indulges my mood, reflects an egret's gliding grace; angelic white wings soothing as a sweetly sung southern hymn. Canoes stacked, red, blue, green upon yellow, almost garish, hunker down for winter's bite yet able to yearn for spring's gentle caress and summer's bold laughter - but not these leaves. They must dissolve into the earth from which the came. I pick one up. Pocket it. Hesitant to let go. Find myself looking back, remembering the glory that was.
A thousand todays I've walked, yet yesterday's greying bloom lingers.
by Margaret Bednar, February 19, 2018