Poem: Grey Winter Skies
The sky is grey
and the heavens open up
and starts to weep
and weep
and weep
for days on end
after the holiday thrill
is fading, fading
at least for another year.
A switch in the sky
has been suddenly flipped
the sun's brilliance
muted behind the clouds
and a colorless chill
arrives for a little while
at least until the thermometer
decides to sort itself out
as to which season
it truly is
and not according
to the calendar.
When will the warmth
and the birdsong
return?
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