Cruelty: Thy name is weather

The rain was cruel today.
The more it fell, the more dampened my mood became.
Each pellet was caustic, wet, and tiresome.
I am brooding and frightful, (though, I cannot fully blame droplets
     for my malcontent).
I see the hunchback in my mirror; I am the shadow. People cross
streets to avoid my grimace; they fear me not -- I pose no threat.

Their distance

is justified. I am infectious, a contagion, pierced by the approaching celebration
of his birth -- (alas, I had no ability to command blood or halt semen).
I am violently disrupted, scalped away from joy, simply by her existence,
her appetite for recognition.

These are the meditations of rain.
And they are cruel.

I will sleep with fits tonight, and dream of ocean breezes
on September mornings, while avoiding the dirge of troubled souls,
those sirens of fallen leaves that are buried deep beneath
the ice and soil.

msf
7/10/2012