Blue Summer

Cloudy, 55 degrees.
Wind blowing
Trees with purple leaves.
Rain pouring
Upon jackets,
Tugged tight around cool bodies,
Searching for warmth,
Hanging on to hope,
Rushing through the streets
In-between drops,
Feeling the beat
Of the wind on their backs.
Run to doors
Of houses and havens.
Doors thrust closed
And locked up tight.
Eager eyes peer out
From behind closed curtains,
Weary from rain and wind,
Alive with hope
For a ray of sunshine.
Yet, their eyes look in vain
For it is the time of June
In sorrowful Wisconsin.