A Middle Ground, Please

(A Vondelet Sonnet Variation) When clouds roll dark, the skies pour rain on rain, as angels whisper crimson, blue and green to bring a Spring of promise, wild with gain, while sister states hold down a strong desire for smell of raindrop pelts on dry terrain; our windshield wipers sing a break-dance song cocooned within a vacuum too arcane when clouds roll dark, the skies pour rain on rain. Yet now we join our neighbors’ glum refrain to pray for moisture measured to prolong; our plants show wilted heads bent down in pain while air, intense with heat, forecasts a fire. As angels whisper crimson, blue and green, the earth greens up as winter hides again, when clouds roll dark, the skies pour rain on rain.