Turn Out the Lights

Seventy-one days
of sun
and the only thing
I want is rain.

It's hard on the eyes -
all that sun.

It dries up your soul
and makes you feel
thirsty for a life
that  doesn't exist
in December.
But Christmas
doesn't exist in July -
so which would you
rather have?

I like the rain.
I like the overcast
and the grey.
I like the cool chill
of winter
kissing my neck
and whispering
frosty words
in my ear.

The sun seems to stay
too long
this time of year.

The light burns
across the sky
before even the Lark
can sing its tune
to the dawn
and the sky
stays lit
until even the owl
begs for night.

The day
prolongs itself
like an unwanted
houseguest
and I just want
it to leave.

Go now
and take the sun
with you.