The Trouble with Life

Happy, is the sun on my face on a mid-summer's day,
the snow all Christmas and by winter to have gone away,
the wind in my sail in times of doubt,
and the rain in the desert in solicitous drought.

Sad, is the rain in my shoes on a mid-summer's day,
the snow all winter and by Christmas to have gone away,
no wind in my sail in times of doubt,
and the sun in the desert through solicitous drought.

Life, is the murderer fingering my hair when I switch on the news,
the anger in their glare after they've supped down that booze,
to the time when I laughed and got smacked in the face,
to the desert and that perspective, the sun and that place.