Damp and dreary today dawns, settles 'round my shoulders with a weary sigh.  Mo(u)rning mists my glasses as I shuffle through leaves fast becoming grey; contemplate life slipping away silently without fanfare.  No trumpet call, no pretentiousness; just color ebbing, leaving behind something once vibrantly splendid.  Even the lake's silvery stillness indulges my mood, reflects an egret's gliding grace; angelic white wings soothing as a sweetly sung southern hymn.  Canoes stacked, red, blue, green upon yellow, almost garish, hunker down for winter's bite yet able to yearn for spring's gentle caress and summer's bold laughter - but not these leaves.  They must dissolve into the earth from which the came.  I pick one up.  Pocket it.  Hesitant to let go.  Find myself looking back, remembering the glory that was. 

A thousand todays I've walked, yet yesterday's greying bloom lingers.

by Margaret Bednar, February 19, 2018