Puddle Jumping

Gray and green,

Sunlight unseen,

Pages, not read, lay waiting.

Low clouds are prowling.

The kettle is howling

And glass ripples, warped, on the bay.

Wind chimes sing

Branches bow to no king

Mug warm on my fingers and steaming.

Birds are conversing

Are the woods worth traversing

On a soon to be blustery day?

There’ll be mud and mist

And leaves all a-twist,

Their pale backs turned on the storm.

The ocean looks duller

And I’m craving color

Over being cozy and warm.

So I pull on my boots

To visit some roots

And wander the natural cathedrals

Of towering trees,

Fresh air sure to please,

Puddle jumping along at my leisure.