A Rainy Day

Cloud-control ominously
patrols the storm tattered sky,
drizzling on saturated pavements
on the streets of its soul;
I stand out in the spitting rain,
as hurried feet slip-slap by,
with a rude whistle
the wind tries to woo
the oak and the sycamore,
I watch an English city
dampen with a furious eye.

The garden drips with water,
and I listen to the pit-pat grow,
of rain-dishevelled leaves and
headgerow shoulders glistening
as silver, while cowered under
an overflowing green thicket,
our tabby cat indignantly miaows
at how dare the spray ruin her day,
and the wind continues to court
the trees, who shake their soaked
heads in the most harassed way.

Then suddenly the sky's window
fills with burgeoning sunlight,
concentrated golden shadows glow
and the rain stops to watch,
while sunbeams catch glistening white
elves tinkering in the tree leaves,
and the day is suddenly perfumed
as though it were wet roses
that had fallen from sky-seams,
and I watch an English city
brighten with a curious eye.

The silver on the leaves are
polished to a sparkle now,
as multi-colours enter
the spectrum of the day,
a warming caress persuades
passersby to a sunny recess,
while our tabby cat comes
crawling out with whiskers
on alert to a signalling drumbeat
from disturbing heavens
that rarely reach its eye.

From the collection: "The Story of Living Things" >>

Read more of my poems >>