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A poem by Gregga J. Johnn:


A misty day lingers outside my window.

The default response echoes in

What I think I’m supposed to feel;

Sadness. Rain. What a shame.

Unless you’re a farmer, there’s no room for rain in our play.

But, I am not a farmer.


The greyness of the sky draws me out,

The wetness of the mists entice my skin,

The softness of these natural caresses

Causes my soul to sing to bring my chemical ecstasy.


Some bemoan a rainy day.

Others curl inside the windows with hot drink and pages.

I would dance and sing in the softly falling sky

And drink deep the draught of sense usually kept within.


Oh, for a love that would embrace the sky,

Tap deep into the earth,

As my soul does fly,

Grounding to birth.

Oh the mists of this lingering high

Carried on wings of crows calling nigh.