Grey Day

I love days such as these.

Where grey skies meet grey earth and
Clash, against a backdrop of autumn's last dying embers

Where the hollow groans of a wistful bagpipe
Echo softly throughout the world

Where light, diffused and cold,
Trickles through the ash-laden clouds, quietly,
Onto the hardened ground below.

It is a day for strong words and cold acts.
It is a cigarette day, a rusted steel day.
It is another day in this broken cycle of the machine we call our lives.

I love days such as these.