Silver Lining

This November sky
Thinking Winter in season
Offers up mashed potatoes
Ashen servings
Sliding seaward

And the sea
Antique pewter
Darkened by time
Lies flat
As if frozen

Here and there
Cloud gaps
Drop columns of brilliant light
Plunging
Down
As if to prop the sky

Pewter turns to sterling
In long slashes
Streaking the surface
LIke spilled paint

One flock of clouds hurries
Southwest
Overhead
Rushing to meet those
Far off
Headed east
Befuddled
Like winter people
Seasoned islanders
Seeking refuge
Fool's silver
Here
then
there