grey

The trunks of the trees are
grey grey grey
And behind them
Close behind them

The branches of the trees are
grey grey grey
And behind them
Close behind them

The buds on the trees are
grey grey grey
Grey as the trunks
Grey and branches
Grey as grey ever was
Grey as grey ever will be

And above them
High above them
The sky is grey

frozen

The place between my shoulder freezes. Solidifies. No movement. A tension which gathers and hardens like cement. I wonder if it’s from the cold, but it doesn’t feel cold anymore. No feeling. I wonder if I’ve already frozen to death.