A grey morning, nowhere
to go but work. What are you going to do but duty? I heard an owl calling earlier, now it's a silly robin in one direction, a mourning dove in the other, clouds overhead as if it's God who's still in charge.
One flag in town suggests the wind is out of the northwest, another flag suggests there's no wind at all. There is still no flag at the cemetery to act as a tie-breaker.
It is a Canadian kind of sky, with geese. Clouds hang down, jagged, grey spikes. The roadway shows a memory of some wetness. Geese come across the road above me, heading west.
Now I see blue sky through a small hole in the clouds to the east. The sun does not come through that hole but inflames the clouds a bit farther to the south. There is also a bit of blue sky near the far western horizon. Some days you take most any promise as enough.