We are in the midst of a snowy spell.
This morning as we shoveled snow all we could hear
was the rhythmic "crunch-shush" of our work.
When we paused, we heard the birches in the wind,
tinkling softly as their ice covered branches swayed.
The train whistle down in the valley was muffled
as were the dogs barking down the road.
In my studio there have been grey stitches,
as I work on my handmade holiday gifts.
The softness of the greys calms my soul as the outside world
keeps up its determined unravelling.
There's so much grey to every story - nothing is so black and white.