Gray Skies and Mud Puddles

I watch the clouds gather from inside my tent
with a new season, mother nature decides to vent.
The ground becomes a polka-dotted pattern as the rain begins to fall,
the water runs fast to the lowest point of the wall

I sit alone and see the wet blanket cover the earth,
discovering again the mud puddle's birth.
Oh, how I used to jump and splash about
no fear of trouble, no consequence or doubt.

I see the forest across the way,
wondering what animals inside there play.
I watch the leaves fall with every droplet of rain,
listen closely, you can almost hear their pain.

The once blue sky is now a cloud covered gray,
the howling, whistling wind makes it a cold wet day.
The beautiful plants whose watch I keep,
are wet and soggy, begining to weep.

I need sunshine and warm weather for a bit more,
if these flowers are to sell at this tent they call a store.