Clouds came to my door this morning, cold and uninvited.
Clouds that are dark and full of coldness hovering unrequited.
Sunshine is covered and hidden from my sight.
Cool early breezes left over from the darkest night.
Donning a jacket and heading out of my door, cold is the morning air.
Leaning into the biting chilly wind; longing for sunshine that isn't there.
My morning is spent in wonder; I wonder many a thing.
Where did the warmth and sunshine go? When will I hear the birds sing?
The weather is fussy and fickle; it changes and does what it will.
One day it scorches and burns with heat, the next, it brings a deep chill.
Layers of jackets, jerseys, and gloves, is how I will dress today.
The morning is cold as the Dickens but that's not the way it might stay.
I may not like what the morning brings; it’s a mystery every day.
The plans we make in the morning, by noon can be washed away.
I’ll cherish the sun when it’s shining, and accept the rain when it falls.
I have no control of the weather; someone else is making those calls.~Jay Olson
