To the bleeting of the alarm I did wake
But was it morning or was it a mistake?
The sky was gray and cold as stone
and the rain brought an aching to my bones.
But the birds still sang and the trees did sway;
So I rubbed my eyes and began my day.
Tufts of fog glided like skaters over the pond;
but no sight of the sun, just clouds rolling on and on.
A lively song the rain drops played;
upon the roof like ants on parade.
Pitter, patter, drop by drop…
I wondered if it would ever stop.
Then I sat and gazed awhile and wondered, “what’s my hurry?”;
it could be icy cold and instead a strong snow flurry!
So I sat back down and settled in
and watched the rain as it trickled down.
And smiled wide to be alive
instead of 6 feet underground.