LOW CLOUD

Smoky grey cotton wool clouds hang down
As if teasing and tugging at the skies above
With mere hints of pale blue in the distance
Perhaps the sun may have some persistence
There is also a suggestion of some resistance
As a chill of the autumn morning is enough
And the day demands a return of its crown

The day appears to be like some silent duel
Yet the grim clouds hang on as if in despair
As the breezes blow it looks like they cower
A suggested prospect of a reluctant shower
The obscured sun attempting not to glower
But then it senses a subtle change in the air
As bright sunshine will be its precious jewel