Poem: Grey Sunday Morning

Grey Sunday morning on Grouse Mountain...
nothing new there...but all that gathers is not gloom...
Spring is prettying the land...
with pink and yellow and blue bursts everywhere...
It's only me at my wheel...rolling on a foggy highway...
without my wind shield wipers working...
Wobbling through the days with a slipped perspective...
is something I know I can do better than...
having goosed myself out of that so many times before...
Practice...has not made me perfect...
but it has given me a Houdini-like confidence...
that despite stumbling around with my head in a shroud...sometimes...
I can wriggle out of another overcast Sunday...
and still be standing...
come a rainy Monday morning...
.....................................Quester.