A Haibun, for the Day Twelve prompt. 
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The greyness subsumes everything, water filled skies allied to grey granite blocks defining the sky line. Sometimes, a mist will drift in from the sea, shrouding the city in a gloomy pall. The winds howl incessantly, its fingers reaching through every gap and every crack spreading chill and forcing a quickening of the footstep of all who brave the elements. The defining characteristic though is one of just getting on with it. Sometimes – for two days of summer as we say – the sun comes out.

After the
rain, sometimes the sun does shine
Cherished.