The Day Hangs

A grey day

This                                                                                          Like an old net curtain

Day                                                                                           Unwashed

Hangs                                                                                       Never twitched


A fatigued day

With a pessimistic mood

Near naked trees scrawl charcoal pictures over flat grey skies

No sun to throw a warm blanket over the land

And daub golden highlights in the laurel bush.


There was a day this week when all it did was rain. From the moment light forced itself was out of the sky till it slunk away in defeat later that afternoon it rained. It rained all day; one of those days where you don’t really know what to do with yourself. I did venture out a few times forcing myself to go for a walk, forcing myself to get some exercise. A functional walk, rather than fun!

I’ve considered playing Christmas songs. It is, after all, December, but then as I reflect on my functional walk in the rain, it is not beginning to look at lot like Christmas at all. It is not beginning to look like anything. Yes, the shops are full of Christmas goodies, and the manic intensity is well underway. But around me, the land is grey and wet and not even seasonally cold. Why air temperature could be considered more ‘Christmassy’ when the events about which the season is celebrated took place in The Middle East and that for half the world summer is in full swing, I do not know!

Yes, it was a grey day. There seems to be a lot of greyness in the world. Perhaps, I do need to be more considered as to manor in which to make merry.