Gray Days

Could be this is the final season of frosty air and

falling leaves. Restlessness stirs eerily in the bones.

Gray somber skies were designed to define days

such as these. The squirrel proceeds as if this saga of

brittle gray will continue day after day. Squirrel knows

that bitterness and cold are growing. Enough nuts

have been stored to feed itself one more day.

At this rate, in all likelihood, today may well be the

last. Yet, squirrel continues his determined leaps

from tree to barren tree high above the frozen earth.

We humans are prone to rely upon diligent planning

and modest measures of faith. There are no guarantees,

my friends. Tomorrow, we pray, will surely follow

today—knowing full well, sometimes thin branches

of our perceived realities have a tendency to break.

Chris Hanch 12-4-17