The silver sky

The sky looks heavy.

Laden with waiting snow.

Like a woman about to give birth.

I love these frozen,

silent days.

It's so easy to wonder

when sitting quiet~

on these silver  Sunday afternoons.

When  songs of Mumford and sons come

drifting in from the kitchen and soak into my bones.

Wordlessly I walk to the kitchen window

and look out at the little hills.

Covered in their comfort blanket of glistening stars.

Thinking, always thinking.

This time of year, daffodils, eggs, bunnies.

Most of all , the stone that rolled away.

Hearts. bursting into bloom.

All under the  silver sky.

Waiting to be born.