i don’t like it when the sun breaks

after a gray, wet rainy day

i would rather it rain and rain

until nightfall and remain dark

dark until the next break of day

sunlight that comes after a rain

and before dusk seems to be fake

as if it belongs in a cheap

nineteen fifties era painting

of a plain, non-descript valley

in mexico with a dusty

road and sole saguaro cactus

and no context as to why it

hangs in my grandmother’s bedroom

i don’t like it when the sun breaks

after a summer thunderstorm

the darkness and uncertainty

of the storm clouds are much, much more

exciting than the pristineness

of the glistening rivulets

cascading down the grassy hill

just outside my mother’s bedroom

it reminds me of the small creek

that ran through my cousin randy’s

father’s field where there were no trees

meandering through grassy banks

laid bare under hot summer sun

baking the crust on cow patties

i don’t like it when the sun breaks

after the darkness of drizzle

suddenly drifts above the clouds

releasing rainbows like balloons

on new year’s eve, and rays of light

refract through clear crystal droplets

on orange pyracantha pomes,

diamond tips on tips of mowed grass,

infuse the air with petrichor,

and force an unwelcome waking

from my gray-day dreams which i dreamt

in a solitude and solace

wrapped like a tightly tucked blanket

by the mist, the clouds, and the rain