Not drumming or gusting,
Not thunder or lightning,
Just a gray mist
Clinging to everything…
Like a dull mood
A brown stare
Or a sad despair,
It’s dark inside
With lamps lit
And you curl up
In a corner of the couch
With blanket and book
And let the drizzly dreams of weather gods
Conspire with the fire
And lull you to sleep.