Rain and Light

A sonnet

photo by William J Spirdione

It is a drab, rainy, November night,
After a drab, rainy, November day.
To do any work was a dreadful plight.
Thinking was slow, I had nothing to say.

Somethings sapping the energy today,
Weather, the most likely proposition.
Being pulled to the Earth, thoughts gone astray.
The writing still has to be well written.

Ideas, hiding around here somewhere.
One only has to start looking again.
Keeping senses alert and mind elsewhere.
Standing on the front porch, watching the rain.

Wind and water hits screen, mysterious.
Colors, wetness, sound, drain worlds dreariness.