Under the Weather

I glanced at the sky today
brooding clouds swirling above my head
darkness
and the tearing of yet another page
as the lightning commenced its dance
across a tempestuous stage.
I cowered in fear
despising the troubles that mounted
high above my trembling form.
Naturally, my umbrella is broken
and here am I,
caught in a storm.
Why me?

Out of the frying pan
into the fire.
So the adages say.
Why is it
that just as I escape the rain
that pelts
and welts
and stings my face
I find myself trapped once again?
Only this time
by something more sinister and strong.
The whirlwinds,
the strife.
They sweep me along
'til I am caught up
in the vortex of my indecision
and find myself
gone.

And where have gone the peaceful skies
of proverbial bluest blue?
The warming sun
the cooling breeze
the shimmer of new-fallen dew.
A sunrise from the artist's brush
in awe-inspiring hues?
Do they at all
have they never
will they ever
exist?

Ah, but I see them now
hovering persistently over the heads
of my enemies.
The lucky dogs.
The lucky
loathsome
hateful
undeserving
dogs.

I'm pounded by the elements
hounded by Mother Nature
as she lectures most sternly
about the futility of dreams
while my foes are graced
with glorious days
that they cannot fully appreciate
because the storm for them
has yet to hit.

Oh the gloominess of being
under the weather.
But who isn't?
The only difference between us
is our luck.
We're all under the weather
but the weather
for some
is always better.