not Mud Bay but

On a positvie note since I've started riding the bus again I'm writing a lot more poetry. Mostly images from the bus, but at least I'm writing again.
Mud Bay at high tide
a perfect mirror of the sky
the gray of a hidden dawn
thoughts are overcast
with each to their own
driver calling the stops
on such a gray day
Now comes Bud Bay
like a silverd mirror
end of the line
turn it around
to make another run.
The bays were like glass that day not a ripple to be seen it put me in a reflective mood and since I wasn't driving I could engage to poetic drive and scrible down these thoughts.