Dark clouds moving in slowly,
Casting a shadow like that of night,
The wind silently howls to you,
You anticipate a show of delight.
Delight which did not show itself,
No dancing souls across the sky,
Dark clouds you are deceiving,
Why? Oh Why? Oh Why?
Maybe no dancing souls,
No shadows cast from this delight,
Surely the rain itself…
Is beauty within its own right.
– Annalee Hopkins Somerville