I Miss the Sun
A Lament from Southeast Michigan
I miss the sun!
The wretched wrap of gray
That shrouds the earth from morn to e'en each day
Dampens spirit, quenches inmost soul,
Snuffs out joy as its exacting toll.
Did with arch malice some rogue god decree
That mortals shall this season Sol not see?
Or did some cosmic thief purloin the sphere
And hide the deed with pallid coat of drear?
I seem to think the sun shone for a scant
Few minutes yesterday. I truly can't
Tell if t'was yesterday or weeks ago —
As gray days blend, one ceases time to know.
Whatever gods are listening I implore
The golden orb on high to swift restore,
Please heed me, be you many or just one,
As I cry out once more: I miss the sun!