Filled with heavy silence

The clouds went on, shaking their sieve

Adding to a sour day all around.

All purpose was missing,

On a weekday torn from routine.

The depressed bodies

Mooned like tourists

Amongst the trestle tables,

Eating to keep from talking,

Black jackets wet with an odor of mold.

I sat watching out the window

Where the clouds continued

To weep on the hill.

The world seemed full of peril,

Squalls were wrenching

Leaves from the trees,

Veering them upwards

Into a cobalt haze.

They looked like newly torn souls,

Light footed ghosts,

Eager to flee the drowning earth.