Muted sky

First thing every Friday morning, I allow nurses to stick a largeish needle into my arm so they can suck some plasma out of me and use it for folks who need it more than I do.

As I am very much a creature of habit, I look forward to Fridays. I find the people who work there to be extremely kind and giving. I find the other donors to be inspirational. It's an ideal way to start the last working day of the week. I'd like to think that hanging around there for a couple of hours every week makes me a slightly happier person. And if it doesn't, then at least I'm trying.

This week, as I headed into the parking lot waiting for my ride back to the office - alas, no biking until the snow melts - I couldn't ignore the melancholy sky. Although the sun was out, it was a sun unlike any other. It was a mere smudge. It had no energy, no verve. It reminded me more of a Monday morning than anything else.

The sun's position relative to me put it immediately beside a couple of smokestacks that looked like they had been plucked from some post-industrial nightmare. I liked the composition, so I reached into my bag and grabbed the camera.

It isn't that it's a world-beating action shot. But every picture says something to the person who views it - and often different things to different viewers. Whatever this one is saying, it whispers it in muted tones.

Your turn: What is this image saying to you?