It’s Raining Again

The weather god doesn’t speak Welsh.

She’s tried. 

She’s really tried.

She’s wept tears

of frustration.

She’s wept tears 

of anger.

She’s wept tears 

of sadness

that flow from the mountains 

to the sea.

It’s the vowels

she finds hard.

And the consonants.

And the mutations.

And the way it’s spoken form 

changes 

over the distance traveled 

in the time it takes her 

to make a small cloud

and a tiny puff of wind.

A tiny puff,

not enough to to raise the cloud 

above the mountains.

So it hangs in a sad, sullen mist.

Or blows in angry swirls.

And still

she tries.

She really tries.

She weeps tears

of frustration.

She weeps tears

of anger.

She weeps tears

of sadness.

Floods of tears.

Lakes.

Tears which fall

in cascades

from the mountains

to the sea.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1602883