day after day
dark clouds hang around
looking sad
and weeping a few tears.
scattered saplings
gently question the sky:

when will the soft sunlight return?
when will the flowers
dry their petals?
when will people
have real wisdom
instead of laws
and online newspapers?

when will songs well
in a heart heavy with too much news?

but there is only rain
to moisten this sodden earth,
only clouds dark as mountains
gazing around sadly