Written by Erin Cummings

Oh, how the sun of inspiration shines!

Rays fall upon the artist in delight.

They dance and sing and lift the mortal’s mind.

What shame! The clouds have come to cast their blight.

Such patient bullies– gray, mundane, and slow,

They throw a net of shadow to the ground.

They seek to capture anyone below,

With snares in which no inspiration’s found.

And now I feel the clouds above my head!

Oh, how can I find light to poems write?

And so I close my eyes and go to bed,

To pass the disenchantment of the night.

I wake to see the clouds have turned to rain,

Yet glad am I— clouds fall and sun remains.