Mr. Gray felt gloomy today.
Sun, shining, took all the credit.
Mr. Gray's clouds were overcast by the
ingrateful passer-bys
wondering how high the bird is in the sky
and why the grass is sometimes
a yellow green.
No one gave a thought to the work done
slowly over nights and weathers and
air pressures and humidities,
the long slow process of collecting
each dewy puff to form
his bathtub hair substance,
(hair meant to grab their attention,
the hair of a child spiked and glopped up
with sudsy shampoo)
Mr. Gray didn't feel so confidently cloudy today.
He felt sunny, and that really sunned on his parade.
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