the grey

grey
the sky is
the fields are sometimes, too;
it is England, after all

view upon view, an expanse of
dusty hues –
the sorts of colours you might find
locked up in an attic, unused
for years

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There Is Still

the world is hard today
but there is still

there is still a person smiling at a stranger in the street
still the trees of summer wafting in the breeze
still the light of a warm golden evening slanting through the park
still dust motes dancing in its wake
there is still

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