Craft Warnings
Gossamer rain enveiling night
(Earth’s latest circuit nearly closed) just might
Mean more than weathermen surmise,
The questing man reasons as he plies
Narrow streets. Christmas being nigh,
Adorning lights fill in for stars on high
And salve the rawness in the air.
“Weather weaves a moody tale,” declares
The questing man, who in his heart compares
The spray of rain with memories grown faint,
Yet dampening the spirit with a plaint
Of longing. “The soul’s the instrument
Records the massive fronts of sentiment
Aroused when skies delight or tempests rage,
Those never forecast on the weather page.”
-Frank Wilson
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