"It Should be Snowing:" A Winter Poem

It should be snowing.

Impregnated clouds hover as a protective mother over a babe.

They draw closer and closer together til’ they appear as one; there is strength in numbers.

Darkness…the soft, light nature of their youth has faded: replaced by the charcoal caress of time.

Opacity has long since retreated-- with it traveled the rays of sunshine.

Light…how gleeful and timeless she did appear when summer first was born.

Yet as summer aged, so did her warm, friendly mother.

All that once was bright is tainted with too many days gone by.

Sun has died and summer too, with her white, chipper clouds.

In their place, fog, charcoal, and mist reign the dominion of the skies.

They send their subjects far and wide, erasing any trace of blue.

The clouds cannot give birth and spread their offspring;

Their due dates have long since come and gone with no signs of labor.

With each passing day, they expand and darken, but without a sign of new life.

Their offspring threaten to burst from the womb and begin life anew...

But their mothers hold them back, keep them inside.

...

It should be snowing by now, but it isn’t.