Rain

from the beginning of a chapter in a book I was reading.  it spoke to me.  glad to not be feeling like this about work.

I wanted to be a rain salesman,
carrying my satchel full of rain from door to door,
selling thunder, selling the way air feels after a downpour,
but there were no openings in the rain department,
and so they left me dying behind this desk - adding bleeps
subtracting chunks - and i would give a bowl of wild blossoms,
some rain, and two shakes of my fist at the sky to be living.
-John Engman, "Work"