Grey! As clouds overhead.
Morning looked forward to the
possibilities of the new Day.
But Storms loomed ominous; as
theshifts in Wind and Cloud
Formations begged for Sun and Surf.
Afternoon, on a misguided mission
For Warmth spent its fleeting time
Promising Rays of Sun that never fully
Believed in Afternoon’s Cause.
Night came to work that Evening
Understanding that his cohorts had
Been fruitless In All Their Efforts to
Provide.
Night, the wise old veteran of the
Graveyard Shift, knew better.
Grabbed a pillow and tilt his head.
Had the angle to put him to rest.
As he dozed away, Night said,
“Let dem young bucks worry
Demselves to an early grave. Me?
I’m good right ch’ere!”
