"Hunters in the Snow" a painting by Breughel

There’s something about how the color grey,
Can become an entity in and of itself.
How it can overtake a scene and infect its people.
A whole community of people,
Hearts heavy with responsibility and need
In search of a meal for their families that day.
Everyone doing their part,
Even though the snow and ice
Chased away their prey into hiding for the day.
Though one would think the white would expose all,
It is the grey that has engulfed the very soul of the community
And all involved therein.
The color and personality have all but been sucked dry,
An inability to distinguish one individual from another.
As the hunters look out over the town,
They realize the full extent of what they have to do
And what’s at stake if they fail.
As the dogs get restless,
Puppies scurrying around their parents feet
Even they weren’t exempt from the draft,
The journey for food or anything at all.
Even the dogs,
Grey with malnourishment
Understand what’s at stake here.
It’s now or never,
And the grey doesn’t let anyone forget it.



Gray can be beautiful,

As in the ocean.

Gray can be dreary,

As in the sky.

Gray can be threatening,

As in the thunderheads above.

Gold cancels it out--


Gray becomes eveything

And everything becomes gray.

Desperate, searching fear.

The sun comes up and swallows it--


If you look carefully

The world's all shades of gray.

And it's beautiful.


I like the imagery.  Makes me imagine the how the old world may have been. How many depended on the hunters and gatherers.  How the grey and the cold naturally wear at a man and test nature.

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