Moanday

Day 7: not a drop of sun to be found. I can feel the bitterness burgeon within me, sloshing about the teeth, ready to spill out In bilious rants of hard truths.
I shall refrain though and curse the skies for keeping the warmth away.
Finally it has ceased raining/snowing and the trees stand bare, raising their arms to the gods; beseeching light that hasn't seen fit to let itself shine.
Say one things about depression, say it animates itself most vigorously on somber days of cold gloom.
I'm not the one to always yearn for sunshine and sun rays, but a bit of light is in order when the winds are dreary and winters a frostbite.
There's something about welcoming the gloomy tint of crepuscular greys in hot summers, but deathly dark winters are not nearly as acceptable, are they?
Contradictions are lovely especially in weathers.
Today isn't one of those days.