The deep navy waves of my jeans
bunch up at the frayed tears near my knees
forming white caps before a storm.
I pull on a nubby, tree-bark sweater
weathered like the old maple oaks.
My thin foggy tee clings closely against my chest
and a scarf woven from dormant grasses
wraps loosely around my neck.
I drape my body in winter’s hues.
The dull gray undertones
soothe and center me.
While I admire the the radiance of
laser rays of sun,
and turquoise oceans,
they are colors best worn
by the peacocks of the world.
I choose to remain camouflaged
in the weave of naked branches
that fringe the rolling hills
around the lake.