I told the clouds that I’d grown
tired of this endless gray weather.
But the clouds, being clouds,
paid no mind. They draped the sky—
unmoved, unchanging, heavy.
And then, as if to punctuate
their apathy, they laughed—a
thunderous, booming laugh, and
poured their oceans upon my
solitary discontent. Admitting defeat,
I retreated indoors, realizing once again
that the universe is splendidly indifferent
to our delicate human whims. And that,
given time, conditions will always change,
though rarely in the ways we wish.
The Truth About Tigers 
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