A Different Kind of Grey

deepening gray
clouds hang thick and low —

crows scattered in
the sky and on patches
of grass, and in parking lots,

seem to be coming from
every direction.

and in my head
clouds part, and i see
that perhaps for the first
time in my life i have
outweighed the bad
habits with good.

and i feel good.

outside of Miller
Paint Co. painters
gather near the tailgate
of pickup trucks, white
pants, white coveralls,

painted and faded
t-shirts and flannels, talking
shop, perhaps a couple of them are looking for work.

and i think of
the faces of the young, of my children.

and i see the faces of the old,
of the buried.

and i see the household divided with friction,
will soon be the home of agreement, joy, and growth.