Malleability Poem by Sonny Rainshine

A shrouding haze congregates
in the south, glissading down Palomino Ridge.
It could be rain, a late spring snow—
maybe it’s my cloudy thoughts.

The hills, like us,
change all through the day,
day by day.
Just last week
they were all amethysts and emeralds—
all evergreens and the first redbuds
of the season.
Now they rise smoky, stone gray,
all neutral tones.

I wish to be more like the hills,
which change their moods
as we change our clothes.
Natural things surrender to flux
and to the passage of time.
Natural things ebb and flow
with a supple grace.