The Melancholy of Spring

A Musing on Dampened Spirits

Raindrops. Ceaseless yet shifting.

Nebulous clouds fill the blue-gray sky, Tinted amaranthine by the setting sun.

First a rush of a down-pouring deluge, Punctuated by a lion’s roar of wind, Startling brightness of lightning, The low vibration of thunder.

A slow staccato of glistening drops, Mirrored glass without sharpness, They flood the river and flood the streets.

My gratitude for the lushness of spring growth And the balance to the oncoming heat of summer Is tempered by the mud of my dogs, The dampness of my hair, The melancholy of my mood.