I don’t understand those who wish that the sun would always shine,
For life is varied, and I pray that it will remain so.
When others complain
I shall go
Out in the rain
And feel alive
As they into buildings dive.

Some say the winter is drear
And huddle near
Fires that suck The oxygen away.
I can not stay
Indoors
On a cold winter’s day
But must ramble about on the moors
Or take a walk in an urban park
For the dark will come
And blot out the sun.
I am dust.