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When I woke this morning
the world was silver
all over,
all silver everywhere

growing with a glow
tarnished to near gray
a remembered whisper
still gleaming in the early light haze

a low but constant humming
something not quite shining
quieter than a scratch spreading
dull silver everywhere

awoke on a couch
in a strange familiar house
rose through sleep murk
from gray to silver to white

a small cat knocked twice

the light, like my morning mind
silver, dull and slightly scratched
something nagging
the silver remainder of dreams

silver light all down the hallway
to the bathroom and back
and the cat laying playful on its back
quietly asks in a voice like tiny bells

silver chimes moving
in a breeze of human breath
but I continue on and down and back
enough time to fold blankets and dash

the light around me rising
slow silver, rubbed clear
held close like a thought
arrived at in private

our eternal highway

silver all over
like a chime
the sky, the clouds, the road
all dull shine

silence rides on light
hands hang on the wheel
thoughts slow and seeping

driving and dreaming
side view mirrors shine silver

not even eight yet
into and out of
the weather, oddly, no different

too light and soft
not gray so much
no sharp edge to this light
morning that is starting

dropping into the valley
the black cragged mountains
wreathed in silver fox
and ermine of the softest off-white

a certain lightness in
well-worn metals
illuminated, near-eternal

made of silver
this morning
all of silver