Still

Still

By Steve

A gray day

Not cool nor warm

The air heavy with moisture

The wind still as a painting

The ground spongy beneath the feet

At first glance

There is no life apparent

No sound noticed

The sole color seen, gray

Only the heavy air pressing

Against the skin, the lungs

But in a moment of realization

The senses can perceive

That there is color, there is sound,

The still air is not as thick

The grays give way

To a palette of muted colors

The ears hear the subtle call

Of many birds aloft

The breath taken in

Is more than heavy air

The sweet scent of grass

Is a subtle presence

There is no drama in this shift

No sudden awakening

But a gradual and growing realization

Of what there is to be sensed.