it settles in like powder after an eruption
a radical beginning
ending in quiet ashen snow
reducing all color of landscape
to a blurry black and white snapshot
all plants, waterways and wind of change
to wretched silence
the coming of age
death shows itself in our faces
and our relevancy is reduced to nostalgia
biding time
hanging on to thoughts of young days and old ideas
pretending we have fended off
the coming of the gray