If I were an unswerving Romantic, I’d say that today’s weather of gray clouds and Spring rain was perhaps somehow uplifting in its preparation for this year’s new growth, and the births of all baby animals everywhere (especially all kittens!), possibilities for personal growth and rebirth on top of that —
Or I could liken it all to a great lump of depression and futility, an outward expression of my inward grief and stasis. This would be the usual Classical approach: comforting and familiar in its unpleasantness.
But the weather is neither of these, and the comparisons seem juvenile. Nor is the weather simply an “it” devoid of meaning or implication.
And it all unrolls before me and everyone goes their ways in bright red jackets, and all the cars look the same, even though they’re of different makes and models.
white pebble 