California After the Rain Painting

The rains have come, the winds are shrill, Dark clouds are trailing near the ground; The mists have clothed each naked hill, And all is sad and drear around. The swollen torrents rapid rush, Far down the mountain gorges deep; Now, falling o'er the jagged rocks, They thunder through the hollows steep. Now, in a basin boiling round, They dance in maddest music high, Or, with a sudden leap or bound, Dash on like bolts of destiny. From mountain's side to mountain's side, The chasms vast in vapors lost, Seem like a sea of darkness wide, Which fancy dreams can ne'er be crossed. Far off the loftier mountains stand, Calm, saint-like in their robes of white, Like heaven-descended spirits grand Who fill the darkness with their light. I'm taking the wheel of a mind and driving my madness to rainclouds. Raindrops of today filling the warm puddles of nostalgia for me to splash in once again. So don’t ask me how old I am today since my stomach is tied in boy scouts knots as I think of the cocoa-colored eyes of my boy scout’s crush. Dancing under the tears of angels with butterflies dancing back. Being smart is a skill I’m good at, but being foolish is a faculty I’ve mastered. So I dance one step forward and two step back, laughing while slipping off the nostalgia. Falling down on butterflies that have grown strong enough to pick me back up.