which way

the canvas is white
today
despite the rain outside,
the emerald
green of trees
is lit
under a sunless sky.
no ink spilled or brushed
yet.
what to do.
what to say, where to go.
I stand at the intersection
of young hours
and turn
in each direction.
who's available
to paint outside the lines,
to hit the road,
to misbehave,
what trouble
or goodness can we
get into on this long wet
rainy day.