The sky weeps without apology,
a hush falls over the world,
as if everything holds its breath,
waiting for something softer.

Pavement glistens with memory,
leaves curl inward,
and windows become mirrors
for thoughts that won't settle.

Somewhere beyond the gray,
a light waits in silence,
not eager,not hurried
just certain in its return.

And maybe that's the hope:
not in promises or patterns,
but in knowing
that even the clouds
cannot last forever.