The sun is a figment
dissipated into memory.
Rusty trees are reflected
in the steel water.
Fog floats over the mountain
and blends into the gray sky.
I'm sitting in my son's living room
next to my in laws who are napping.
You might think this weather
makes me vulnerable to depression
but I am listening to soft snores
watching rain drip from the deck furniture.
My feet are inclined on the leather
La Z Boy and my fingers
are tapping away on my iPad
happy to be writing this poem.