Mellow Gloom

just a poem I thought up very late at night several weeks ago. please don't look for any hidden meanings. it's a fragile young poem that doesn't want to be torn line from line.

My mother used to point at the clouds

off in the distance and say

"See those heavy gray ones? It's raining way out there"

And I could see

the cloud reaching its tendrils

of moisture down

to the face of the earth

Pressing its wet palm upon

the ground and

blessing everything it touched

with its gloomy immortality

How strange to look at the circle of life from outside the ring.