Rain - November 9, 2003

Autumn whispers the springtime fairytale

Distant when we're near
So close when we're far

Sun and Moon nearly concentric,
And twixt does the Earth travel

When the gentle puff of fossil fuels
Can be stopped by a mighty avalanche

Was the ice meant to be hot?
Or was the reactor meant to produce cold fusion?

Try to live with such interruption

And then, the cold fusion, when it has nowhere to spray
"Oh no, I can't trust you," is all I can say

Saying, sin saved for the seventh
No workers showing up this Sunday

Bright hues sweeping underfoot
They should be high in the sky

I feel Autumn scream out the springtime's lie
My clothes feel flat, and a tear fills my eye

Because I really do miss you.