There is really very little to say

About the dreariness of the day

Bone-grey skies are abounding

In a tight circle, quite unrounding



Amidst the barren and bleak grey

Is a stillness which does not pay

To fill with thoughts and visions

Edging out all the cooler legions



Which abound in other hearts

Initialized with quite false starts

Given voice in some new e-mail

Placed on a glass-wall with nails



- Tristram



Christopher W. Thomas

3:55pm Friday Jan. 30, 98