in the quiet moments
between bouts
of manic anxiety
and depressed malaise
exists a realm of
boundless optimism
where i can frolic
for minutes every month

i cling to these
scant seconds so tightly
a quiet place
to ride out the storms

our eyes scan the sky
for rainbows
they let us know that
the worst is behind us
so we travel headfirst
into the next disaster
with nary a pot of gold
within sight

it is quiet now
but the sky looks cloudy
in the distance