The Grey Forward (A Poem)

The grey forward,
Of which I am well informed,
still held uncomfortably at bay,
But retained at all costs,
In a season like today,
When the awkward veins
Of vanished snow,
march with the tide,
white becomes brown,
bottomless craters shift black
Then as morning falls,
They gather together,
The dearly beloved
Led by this one and that,
One from here and there,
To join the verdant couple,
In blue sky wedded bliss.
These two figs, we join as one.
We do, they say.
With God’s help, say we.

–Richard Bryant