Perspective

The sky has become a vault
of weeping frustration permeating
the atmosphere, glazing the flowers
in my garden. The rain persistent
insistent as though compelled
to prove its inestimable value
to a garden and all living things.
Impelling rain clouds to
adversarially block the brilliant
life-giving warmth and light
of the sun, indispensable to 
life itself, hardly a matter of
competition, logically. Each has
its place in existence and the
nature of matter. Each in excess
or in the absence of one the other
can create disaster. Immoderate
presence of one or the other is
capable of destroying life. In the
rain drenching my garden the
prospect of a dawning sun
tomorrow strikes the right balance.
The landscape of my world of 
particularly good fortune.