grey

I headed out feeling joyful. It wasn't the light that was grey. Things looked beautiful to me. It was the cold. It went after my face and hands first, stinging and burning, but more then that. It works in from the edges, aiming for the core of me. It's a killing cold. We live in it like it's no big deal, but it takes it's toll. We hunker down, cramp up, lose our bodies. The cold is anti-sensual. By the time I escaped into warmth, my energy was gone. The word 'grey' describes what's left after the cold has had its way.

p.s. - I tried submitting to the American spelling - 'gray', but it looked so crude to me, so I went back and changed it. I find on the web, I often use American spelling. I don't like the spellchecker's red underlines, and I don't want you to think I'm stupid. So I start putting 'z' in realise, and depriving 'favourite' of it's much-loved 'u'. No more! My flag is flying in my heart's centre, and I will no longer constrain my behaviour. Red lines be damned.