Sitting Here Thinking (2020-2022)

The Scorn of Clouds

I never meant to ruin your rainbow,
my clouds blocking the sun perfectly.
You must understand; it could not stay.
The are two sides even to the colorful crescent.

It's grandeur is only borrowed:
it did no work of certainty;
it appeared after the raging gray
presuming its appearance to be a blessing.

Yet here I am, granting you rain,
that which preserves you,
but that isn't what makes you thankful.
Awed by tricks of light.

When my efforts I abstain
perhaps the thought will debut,
as the drought becomes fateful,
that you should be contrite.