Sunshine Might Be Coming By
The skies are gray, with drizzling rain.
The cold that’s left will come again.
And that’s the bane of northern climes
That all must bear – though some complain.
Yet one, who lives in tropic lands
With palm-trees tall and coral sands,
Of summer’s sweltering heat complains
And cooler temperatures demands.
I wonder, whether there’s a clime
That’s cool enough in wintertime
And pleasant still in summers too.
So wondering, I might end my rhyme.
But I have learned there’s such a place
That’s suited to the human race,
Where seasons all are temperate –
As climates go, a shining ace.
I sometimes, in my dreams, ascend
To where it seems that spring won’t end,
Where in December flowers bloom,
On which the hummingbirds depend.
But that is there and I am here,
With drizzling rain – but spirit sere,
With winter’s cold about to surge,
And springtime’s blooming far from near.
So I can either sit and mope
Or with the gray and drizzling cope –
Of season’s cruelties complain
Or shrug – and for some sunshine hope.
On venturing in the rain, I spy
A patch of blue in the cloudy sky.
And so I smile. I’ve learned to flow –
And sunshine might be coming by.
2013 December 23rd, Mon.
Brooklyn, New York