Clouds Like Blankets
The low dark clouds are pretty cool,
I guess, in that faintly ominous
But ultimately harmless sort of way.
It’s Ohio, the sun likes to hide.
By noon the sky is a high cerulean blue
And all that’s left of the cold morning dew
Clings to the canvas and laces of old shoes
I’ve tossed in a heap in a corner of the foyer,
Collapsed together like penitent hands.
I would pray:
For more rain
For peace of mind
For less ankle pain
For longer days
A life not so bereft
A life less inane
For the power to wrap oneself in clouds
When October sun isn't enough.
But what’s the use;
The morning is gone
The clouds have drifted away.
Everything succulent dries out
Like fallen December leaves
Scuttling across the concrete
Before the first deep snow