dim

There's  something about those days called drab -
drab to some -
"dim" - I prefer
and  relish them

vague, and unassuming
and opaque
shielding the noise and sharpness
of the universe

so they don't comment on every flower
and butterfly
and they don't tell stories in the clouds
and the dingy whiteness can tire

but still, I can breathe
and take cover from those days
too splendid and eager -
and go about things.