OK, what’s with all the storm clouds trespassing across the sun?
Apparently, the last year in America has been the wettest on record.
And that’s not counting all the teardrops gushing from the political thunderstorms in Washington.
Some people now are praying for a drought.
Come to think of it, a parched earth bleached by a vicious sun sounds rather refreshing. It would be heartening to see some buzzards circling overhead for a change.
If that sounds somewhat insane, it’s because I’m starting to grow gills and webbed feet. You try wearing flip-flops with webbed feet.
Sometimes I feel as if I’m a bar of soap at the mercy of a berserk tsunami.
Whether it’s global warming, climate change, bad luck or ominous apocalyptic foreshadowing, something is happening here. But you don’t know what it is, do you Mr. Jones?
Neither do I.
Why just the other day I saw ducks swimming across the West Shore Bypass. Folks soon will be fishing for trout on Penn Avenue even if there isn’t enough parking.
I’ve got water on the brain and it’s making me feel rather lyrical.
Baby, why must the rain fall three, four, five times a week?
Baby, why must the wind blow, especially on a rare dry day when I’m teeing off into the teeth of a fierce wind on a par-5?
You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows because it’s blowing all over the place. It is more directionless than a high school dropout.
Stormy weather gives us our daily dread.
It keeps raining all the time.
Gloom and misery are everywhere.
There is a move afoot to rename Route 61 something like Desolation Row.
I’m definitely not singing in the rain.
As the raindrops keep falling on my head, I’m cursing at clouds.
It’s so dark up above there is no sun in my heart.
And in the sky the sun is MIA most days. When it does appear, it seems to be a strange unidentified flying object.
The only way you’ll find me dancing in the rain is if I’m blind drunk.
I haven’t seen fire but I’ve seen a helluva lot of rain.
Almost every morn you know a hard rain is a-gonna fall and nobody will stop the rain.
Almost every eve it’s a rainy night in Pennsylvania.
November rain now is a January through December rain.
Yes, it’s raining all over the world.
Perhaps Berks County can secede from aqua-world and become another Sahara.
It would be good to go through the desert on a horse with no name.
It would feel good to be out of the rain.