The morning woke up choosing foully not to fully dress for the day.
The ground kept sleeping in an undertow of drenched moss and clay.

Tree trunks stood sullenly belted in downwards trickling water drops.
The sun dulled by shirted gray of threaded heads of murky mops.

Wheat fields stomped by the thunderstorm's shoes with no soles.
Roads bloused in myriads of rutted ribbons with pockets of potholes.

Houses sat clothed in misty shrouds dampening inhabitant's noises.
Curbs skirting sidewalks draining splattered owners cursing voices.

Girdled birds flitting from branch onward to some unknown shelter.
Armored Insects underneath greenery staying another storms slaughter.

Stubborn late dawn gave notice to what wardrobe it would wear.
The veiled day with its closets raided in shadows thrown everywhere.

Some secret torment causing it to undress in the joyless wet night.
Sweatered in dreary soaked sobs toiling heavily in saddened plight.

All things under sky gloved to shovel away this day's manner of mess.
Morning moodily emptying its vanity defiantly dressing to depress.