Soft flannel grays afloat in sunshine blue
commiserate hand-shaded view below;
no life aground for nature’s crown that grew
from vapors sent above to world’s window.

Gray flavors taste of soft Fall day, where signs
of frost are warmed by radiance that strayed
from summer’s weight. And, now, sweet skies of mine,
pink flows like wine among a banquet laid

upon my sight while moon bemoans its lack --
reflected light of sun’s demise. So, look,
all eyes, to heaven fly to nighted black,
where gray will find its home in cosmic book!

Soft lie the blues and pinks and grays as rain
bespatters earth, and flannel day now wanes…

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 10/25/04