It Is Dark Outside

It is dark outside.
The clouds gather in front of the sun
Block the light
Hanging over our heads and our houses,
So low you can feel them pressing down,
So low that if you went out and reached up,
You could touch them, grab them, and keep them.

It looks like twilight, some sort of dusk,
Gusty, gloomy, and grey.

The tops of the trees sway in the wind;
I see them as I tend
To my flowers, sitting in the window.

And it is dark outside.
Every sound is muffled,
Most people are huddled inside.
One lone man shuffles down the street.

Looks like rain.

It is dark outside, and it is dark inside too.
And I am tired
And hungry
And sad.

And when the skies open
And the rain pours,
I am not surprised.

It splashes and splatters and sprinkles across my roof;
As if I am living inside a drum,
Or a heart,
And either way, the rain is my beat.

I fall asleep.

When I awake, I peek
Out the window.

It is light outside. The sun is shining once more;
Birds sing outside my door.
The sky is blue, and the air feels clean,
Fresh, renewed.

It is light outside.
And it is light inside too.