The Weather

Quick poem about the weather.

Green trees rustle softly on the background of bright blue skies.

Brown leaves drift to the gentle green grass as the orange autumn sun shines down upon them.

The white clouds gather above, blending into the morning’s frost.

The crisp spring air brings vibrant flowers into bloom, as blossoms reach to the clear skies.

The depression saps.

The lonely bare trees stand still. Lifeless.

The skies turn dark as clouds gather on the horizon.

Grey skies overwhelm.

The flowers wilt.

Rain pours.

Mud.

An isolated daisy drowns in a flood of murky water.

Behind the clouds, the sun pulses violently, trying to reach to world.

The earth craves.

The clouds break.

Small rays glimmer through the grey.

Hope.

Author's Note

As always, please be honest. Firs thing I've written in a while.