Manifesto of independence from the weather

Beyond the green of grass,
a sea of gray …
the grim of grave
where lay his great grandfather.

Dressed like a groom,
his beard full grown,
a gray sign of time past.

The church clock beats midnight,
in Greenwhich time,
and sounds the gravest hour.

On top,
a lost sheep is grazing in the grass,
thinking in dreams of green.
The groom below,
the gray between,
the grave on top,
forgotten …

It’s green or gray,
groom or grandfather,
to grow, to grave,
the sheepless grass,
or grazing fast.

Your day,
your choice,
your say,
your voice!

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