on feeling overcast:

I'm caught in fleeting moments;
rain on a window I
wash away.

My eye's glimmer's
dulled by leaden clouds,
weighing down on me
onus added to my burden.

My face is the face
of an ox,
dull and desirable
for what strength it provides-
left to sit out in harsh weather.

I'm native
to inclement conditions.
It has not made me hearty.

I'm not the stallion
sought after,
yearned for;
not the sort that wars begin for;
none to die for me;
no, I'm found ghostly,
resting heavily,
by the road,
alone.