The day went soft.
Snow started but did not continue.
Ice on the pond got wet on top
and slushy at the edges.
Our feet stepped quiet
on the brown oak leaves

We, too, are soft —
soft towards each other,
soft in the tender places
where our edges touch

We may be overcast
but we are warm,
we may lack brilliant blue
but we still have sienna.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 18, 2019