I gave her a leaf. It had turned gray in my hand;
but it was a lovely gray — a gray with veins,
a gray of ten thousand subtle shades,
a gray inside gray still becoming gray,
a deep gray well in which gray voices
echoed the glad gray eternity of our names.
June 27, 2011
[click to enlarge]
Passage from “Gray,” first published here and in Poems, Slightly Used.