When It Rains, It Pours
But with the rain comes hope

I don’t hear, even when the birds are singing a beautiful song.
I don’t see, even when the sunrise casts its sherbet colored rays.
When the fog rolls in, I’m blind to good and deaf to beauty.
When it rains, it pours (as the saying goes) but if it’s pouring there must be hope, for something must be growing.
© Breanna Lowman 2020
