Spring

Torrential downpours batter the awning Above my bedroom during early spring Tip, tap the water collects and drains from The downspout to the black, impervious road; Far in the distance are ominous skies; Thunder crashes loudly and lightning strikes, Hurling concise bolts through the hazy gloom; The wailing wind fires volleys of pure hell, Gusting and swirling and uprooting trees; I wish the rain away like the rhyme says, But chaos reigns and lingers in this place; I yearn for the pleasant, penetrating Rays of the golden sun to appear now; Alas! It has forsaken us today, But there is always hope for tomorrow!