In Spite Of Its Costume

 'It's a very nice day', remarked little Luke yesterday, 

with his back turned to the gray-drippy outdoors and his eyes pre-tasting the colorful fruit treat he was mixing...

We've had gray-on-gray day-after-day for more mornings than any of us would choose 

but we don't decide the color of dawn's dress...

and though at first glance each gray day may seem like a carbon-copy of the previous we know no two are alike in spite of its costume!

That gold gong in yon belfry is muffled by gray on gray

Wall-to-wall tulle keeps the full sweep of countryside at bay

Those ‘pastures green’ we dream of wallow in a world of mud

Earth’s tree-lines skimmed with breathy brume and winter’s bastioned bud

Gladness is like a song we sing in spite of what is not

The sadness-es deemed for this day will spill hope’s care-filled lot

Life’s sit-and-spin, its grit-and-grin, its what-must-be-will-be

Flings wide the door of every morn to opportunity

Daybreak is like a lake, lack-luster; lost in in its own fray

Its landscape lies beneath a cape of shapeless, weightless gray

We wake and sleep, weep, laugh and leap across its brief commune

And make the best it, oh yes, in spite of its costume

© Janet Martin

 How are you making Best today?!

I think I'll kitchen putter with some cleaning-cooking-baking! 

I've NEVER heard any complaints yet when I choose this Saturday-activity😀