A Cloudy July


A shadow in the wake of thunder at his door.
Thought of this once, not too often before.
Such heavy clouds preceding storms,
In a season where such thoughts form.
Blackened skies and his heart so lightened,
Of the lightning he’s never been frightened.
With open arms he welcomes such as these,
Where they don’t belong in place of summertime breeze.
Much preferred to the bright summer sun
His heart gladdened by what the grey sky won.
In the peace before the storm he sighs,
And prays for more Julys with grey skies.

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