Thank God for pleasures of a cloudy day:
for hibernating moments weaving dreams
nearer to thought than was their warmer wont,
for wanton luxury of wood and wool;
but also chiaroscuro clouds collaged,
transient whiplash whims of winter wind,
for sparrows' brown flocks who all hope to live,
and root-starved weeds' last launch of painful fruits.
      Why be depressed? I'm but a child of Time,
      a passing chance to share love with my peers
      who raft our course relentlessly downhill.
      We see beauty as from an airplane seat
      always passing, helpless but to enjoy;
      little we grasp, keep nought, love while we may.