Weather Madness

It is weather madness, indeed:

Intermittent torrential rains.

This grayness, when will it recede?

I sorrow to watch blue-tinged skies wane.

Where go the roadside wild flowers

In the creeping ocean of mud?

The wind erodes the trees and scours

The struggling growth of fresh buds.

I drive the winding rural roads

In the idyllic hill country

Thankful for the brief calm bestowed

Amid storm-tossed reality.

My mind feels the pattern keenly

As it pulls this a’way and that,

Tempest-affected, obscenely,

I chide: 

best hold on to your hat.