REALITY: Rain Coming In

Some of us are weather-driven, sunshined smiles or greyly grave and grim. I watch the sky tonight, the yellow coward clouds slink in mobs and look for trouble, scan the streets to find a hapless victim they can drench with rain. I hide within my rooms, feeling the tendrils of their tongues in breezes blowing in. But I will go out and face them, glare my own thunder brand of temper, hoping they don’t see the sad inside.