The rain pours on the town,
From heav’n ten thousands strings-
of water falling down,
A somber time it brings.
Grey ghost-like clouds surround,
A dark and dusky sky,
A howling wind abounds,
The colored leaves fly by.
As soon a soaring swift,
On white wing flying high,
Appears to make a rift,
And draws a sunbeam by.
And now a rainbow shows,
In hints of hazy hue,
As golden Helios glows,
Uncovers sky so blue.
The bleakest scenery,
When darkness all but shrouds,
The brightness we will see,
The light beyond the clouds.
Peter Lowell Paulson
November 5, 2010
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