Silver, we'll call it silver,
this tarnished, rainy day,
silver in the pond's small leaps,
road paved silver winding up the hill,
drops of silver tapping on the attic boards
above his head where the chimney flashing bleeds,
silver Celtic lullaby* of loss sung beside the bed
as he awakens to the tapping rain
with dampened expectations,
we'll call them tarnished dreams,
but silver still.
