Marionette

West, the winds of morning billow, Buffeting the cloudy pillow Of a death-grey sky. East, aborted sunlight stumbles Up the cloud-stair, where it crumbles, Tumbles, and the pieces lie Rain-smashed, as the wind bolts by. Down below, the merchants tighten Shutters, awnings—storms will frighten Customers away. God and weather know no reason, Man’s a puppet, any season, White or gold or green or grey, Sunny—snowy—rainy day.