(If you resent cynicism, skip this one)
The wind is impatience tonight;
The clouds are a woe-begone blight
That hide and then show
The moon as they blow
In headlong, undignified flight.
My spirit is weary tonight;
My thoughts are a pestilent blight
That hide, then reveal
My soul as they steal
To the depths of monotonous fright.
So the wind and my spirit are one,
And the clouds and my thoughts, having done,
Let the moon and my soul
Shine with radiance whole
Til the grief of the morrow’s begun.
by Ray Romine Monday, September 3, 1945
