rain, cold and gray, once upon a time a good thing, a cherished thing, but anyway, rain, cold and gray, an actual reflection of self, rather than the self turning cold and gray because the weather is. how often does this happen, when so often, seasonal affective disorder occurs, how sunshine can brighten an otherwise dour day, how cloudless frigid winter shortened days can depress, alter, and affect the self, the behavior. how often does the world show the inside of self? when the clouds roll in on sadness and pain, despair and agony? instead of blue skies and sunlight, I'd greeted by clouds and rain, grayness, mother nature's melancholy, as if she was I and I was her.