Behold, across, the window scene,
The falling sky, a low, aging gray;
The pregnant clouds appear to burst,
Heavy with the rains of May.
Looking out the window
At the prelude to a storm,
A man awaits the torrent,
Hums a sullen dirge alone.
Growls of thunder, bolts of light,
Storm’s above, storm’s his mind,
Clouded with collaged memoirs
From sadder than sad times.