Midwinter

Grey over grey, a seamless patchwork of monotony plays out before us with the merciless robbery of all interest. White melting into brown, grey asphalt; the only break from downtrodden snow and general discontent of nature. Fleeting glance of sunlight blocked out by clouds that refuse to merely linger, but insist on dominating the skys above, relentless in their silent taunting. Hope of spring lost to the etch-a-sketch grey of the world. Sky melts into horizon, melts into foreground and that beneath your feet. Odd...birds flying, outlined in the color of the dirtied snow the cars run over and slush up onto your shoes. It seems as if this grey, this in-between world would consume even the most arduous of people. Still, there are whistles of cheer and smiles now and again, when the wind's demanding howl isn't too icy to keep them inside. Scarves blown away in the zephyrs, lost forever to the North wind, for all his restlessness. Sweet cocktail of apathy mingled with stress and a drop of ice