Gray Days

It is a gray day;

The gray clouds are raining

Gray rain on a dripping

Gray city.

This is the only way

I like to see it;

It lends a tragic grace

To all these sad, gray, twisted

Trees.

Sometimes, I think they are

Bitter against all

That made them grow here.

But on gray days,

They are only sad—

Sad they are ugly;

Sad they are old;

Sad that they die in a world of

Concrete.

Today is a gray day.

Simon Kozhin, The Houses of Parliament, Rain. 2006. wikimedia.org