A Day of Mourning (After Li Ching Chao) by George Freek

As the leaves fall
from the maple trees,
the day is now passing.   
Black clouds speak of dismay.
But tomorrow, with the rain,
flowers will grow again.
Birds will sing the songs
which only they know.
My neighbors will work.
They must make money,
as bees must make honey.
But if I look to the sky
for a rainbow,
I will look in vain.
There won’t be any.