Morning in America

I know it's morning somewhere, but can't find it.
The sun appears to want to stay in bed,
and seeks out every cloud, then hides behind it.
Obedient, the leaden shadows spread.

Wake up, I tell the sun, and do your duty!
Inflame the skies in oranges and blues
and let me see the world in all its beauty,
let colors strut and demonstrate their hues.

For all the good it does. I get no answer,
as everything around me turns to greys,
and fear invades and spreads, a deadly cancer.
Can it be gone forever? Will its rays

return to bathe us in its holy light?
I flip the tv on. The screen is bright.