The Clouds Overflowing

Under a frigid autumn sunset,
my father upset again at his boss,
on the garage for the second time today.
I had come to help,
and I climbed the dilapidated ladder,
to the second floor, bucket in hand,
and I went around,
scouring for the leak,
to shine the flashlight through
for my father, in the storm,
on the roof, to put a shingle on,
so he could finish
installing the insulation,
with plans of drywall tomorrow.