on grey-skied days
I marvel at the silhouette
of birds flying,
we take risks
walking, wondering
if we'll be wet when we return,

we rumble inside
bake and blend smoothies
he lines up cars and trains
and I begin cutting linen
for clothes,

we wake in the dark
to the pitter patter 
of rain drops
I imagine the trees
with dry-leaves upturned
sighing with relief -

on grey-skied days
 I seek out all the colours
that I overlooked before
blue tile, umber rust, 
the purple of lavender sprigs.