Above Lake Tahoe

Holding Pattern

Low clouds. Plane loud.

Sun prowls. But is not seen.

A blanket has fallen on the world.

Everything has gone grey.

Missing are the brilliant colors,

The bright light, and the rainbows.

All feels dull and dreary.

None among us seeing clearly.

The fog, the mist, the haze.

Praying, always, for better days.

Life in a prolonged holding pattern.

Up here, there’s only time to burn.

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