Sometimes It Only Rains

Imagination’s especially weak
When it comes to anticipating
The unexpectedly boring,

One reason Bayesian thinking
Takes so much getting used to
As a means of prediction, given

Such stubborn priors, dense
Enough not to move much.
Imagination’s eager for lightning,

Runs manic between extreme
Possibilities of the unlikely
And then discovers itself later

In a body still muddling through
Somehow, keeping reasonably dry
While damp, continually declining.