Baby - the rain must fall

The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow

I’ve been watching the clouds this morning, hoping to catch a glimpse of a horse or train or fish floating by. But all I get is a fluffy wool blanket in multiple shades of gray. No wait! Now I see them—dollar signs are drifting towards the Bonneville Power Administration. Selling electricity to thirsty, hot Californians has become their stock in trade. Too bad Enron double-dealed them out of their profits a couple of years in a row. We consumers got to foot that bill. Oh! Some more money is floating away to the building supply and sand bag stores. Northwesterners laugh at their cousins to the south who refuse to move out of hurricane infested Florida then cry me a river when the Snohomish slips over its banks for the third time in a year sending their sofa out to sea.

Well look at that! There’s a sun break. That cloud over there looks just like a dachshund chasing a rabbit down a hole. It’s got to be time for a vacation. Maybe my brother down in Tampa has a spare room for guests.

© Sue Barton 2004