A Hat Made Out of Thunder
Dreary skies above with their heavy load.
A teardrop window is my eye on things.
I dream of trippin' down the winding road.
Where life is larger than it sometimes seems.
Saying half a prayer 'bout sending some sun.
Never getting signs of any wonder.
Sometimes the spring rain has me on the run.
And wearing a hat made out of thunder.
The pressure is low and sits on my head.
A natural vice with some lovely pain.
Then going upstairs and jumping in bed.
And falling asleep to the sound of rain.
We all know what joy the sunshine can bring.
If we can make it through this gloomy spring!
date: 2/21/23
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