Unmoving Michael Sooy
The dreary time of less Light and more frost. Gray Clouds stick to the sky Like ambition in the eye Of a child. Growing up May make dreams waver, But the clouds are ever by Snowfall and holidays Blanket the dark Months. People complain of snow, But do nothing to shovel The real weights in their life. For cash, some neighborhood Kid may clear A driveway, but it costs more To plow idleness. I can’t shovel the clouds Or melt others’ burdens. The gray clouds laugh As the sun pierces into them. “Don’t bother”, they say, “They’ll just complain About you, too.”
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