At first I was disappointed
when I saw rain give into sun.

But I looked to the West
and was met with blood orange sinking into the pine.

Blue bled into pink
as charioteers ushered spools of golden fleece
beyond the horizon.

Gray seas hollowed and waned in turn-
slowly, slowly,
cresting and sweeping with yellow foam in their wake.

A deep blue East has carried the precipitation elsewhere,
but the sweet scent of possibility lingers.

Tomorrow, or tomorrow's morrow
may bring the rain.

For now, the sun will do.