March 5, 2015

 

 

And clouds grew lighter,

and slowly parted,

as if to say ‘we’re feeling

open hearted’,

 

‘and in magnanimous mood;

understanding of the need,

for skies of blue

on which you feed’.

 

The winter, long,

with short, cold days,

not helped by skies

of muted greys,

 

or black horizons

where claps of thunder,

followed electric sparks,

that made one wonder,

 

about what really

lies above,

the protective heavens

of hate and love.

 

And just how fickle

could become the mood,

when faced with darkness,

that made one brood.

 

And teasing, only,

for a while;

a glimpse of blue,

brought forth a smile,

 

when cast off were,

ones heavy coats,

as thoughts appeared,

of trips on boats,

 

and long and lazy

sunny hours ahead;

days at the beach,

warm sand to tread.

 

When a multitude

of budding trees,

would turn the landscape,

to bright green,

 

and winter’s bark,

and deadened leaves,

gone from the ground;

new life achieved.

 

Such happiness,

when the soul sings,

as returning birds

again take wing,

 

back to our land;

their second home,

though in truth, one knows not,

what other shores they comb?

 

But we can live with that,

when the bright sun shines;

our suspicious nature,

only on, a storm cloud dines.

 

Oh joy of joy,

the ever switching seasons,

the rebirth, the medicine,

for all good reasons.

 

The clouds, our boss;

our mood enhancers:

When questions asked,

they have the answers.

 

so one must not be fooled,

by summer skies of blue,

for in hibernation, clouds,

stir up a brew.

 

They will return and

catch one out, at will.

For they have the power;

a good mood to kill. 

 

 

 

 

 

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