Talk To Me

The dark, damp weather rips at my soul, it tells me to come and enjoy it. This great gift from nobody, knocks at my door, But I'm not answering, because I already know. I'm out, loving the clouds that have kissed the ground today. I walk to the edge of the world, in my dark, damp Haven. Where a single tree sits on the coast of the pacific. Under the tree I sit and talk to the weather, thanking it for being. It needs not talk for it is mute and it's actions show all. Today it is here for me. Cold. So I talk to it. "Thank you for the great weather today" The wind blows, it has spoken.