And grey-filled skies:
A precursor to seasonal depression.
An expression of life,
Upon which weather brings strife.
Keep your head held high,
For this Winter will quickly roll by,
And The Flower’s echoing cry,
Will try to say good-bye,
To any blue emotions of pain, solidarity,
Or what it is to die.
No one argues with chemistry.
It’s a deficiency.
An ancient, fundamental human need,
It’s our dependency on vitamin D;
A necessary nutrient that the sun supplies me.
So like childhood memories,
Let's dance and sing,
And hope these skies transition from azure to ash.
An early Northwest November morning
We stand frigid in the freezing wind,
Respiring this moisture like smoke.