Thank you, Anni. Maybe I'm a masochist because I do like making things difficult for myself. I considered rhyming each line as well, but that was a bridge too far. Perhaps next time...
The sullen skies of winter,
overcast and grey,
shade the land with foreboding,
our thoughts dark and futile,
unrelieved by summer’s hopes;
the nation stands upon the brink,
torn this way and that,
as fools debate nonsense.
Line count: 8
Free verse
For Express It In Eight, 06.12.23
Prompt: Sullen.
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