When God took up to paint this dawn,
A chilling, dismal winter’s day,
Alas, his palette was constrained
To gray, just gray, just shades of gray.
Gray skies, gray clouds, gray roads, gray trees,
An ever-widening spread of gray.
The wash of color elsewhere lies
This cold and lifeless winter’s day.
Hard edges frame a picture ’round
To point our eyes to brilliant views.
This morning stands to contrast with
The dazzling wash of summer’s hues.