I stand still, staring at the sky,
Clouds rolling by, dark and light.
They’re quiet, but I can feel their weight,
Worries pressing, as if they hesitate.
They hold it in, we barely notice,
Until they break and rain pours on us.
They cry, and cry, and cry some more,
Spilling their sorrow onto the earth’s floor.
Then they calm, turning blue and bright,
Peaceful again, bathed in sunlight.
But people shout, they demand, they claim,
“Bring back the rain! We need it again!”
I wonder sometimes, what do we need?
Do we care for the clouds, or just our own need?