Around this unsettled day

Desolate as a derelict house,

Grows ineffable sadness –

Dense like a jungle

Whose silence hoots scorn

For any intrusion, and

Occludes the sunny hands

Of a needed interruption ;

It is so complacent

In its peregrine kingdom,

Untamed, friable, and tangled

In the constancy of

An unavowed affliction.

The contexture of this monotony

Is chameleon like, rustling in a

Parched well of emotions,

And jacketing more of these days

With the phases and colors of time.