A Year without a Summer

blur branches depth of field dry leaves
Photo by Markus Spiske temporausch.com on Pexels.com

 

A Year without a Summer

April was sulky this year,
And May was too shy,
And June was a truant who failed to appear,
And then came the tantrums of jealous July,
And August was but an imposter
Who left us quite sober,
And as for September, it seems we had lost her –
And soon we were greeting the gloom of October.

So where had our Summer gone, all Summer long ?
Hiding above the clouds, he was.
His rain was heavy, his wind was strong,
And as to why – well, just because…
But that is the way of the weather, we say,
He’s always been fickle round here –
When all four seasons are met in a day,
Yet no Summer met in a year.

 

Not a comment on this year’s actual weather, just a general mope when we get a bit of rain.

 

 

Brolly Dolly

umbrellas
Yellow Umbrella by babsmojo

 

Brolly Dolly

What is it with black umbrellas ?
Only make the weather darker !
When the skies are less than stellar,
Do not make them even starker !
Make our brollies blue and gold,
A private sunbeam to unfold –
The overcast may make us pout,
But when it rains, the sun comes out !

April Smarts

bloom blossom branch flora
Photo by Tabitha Mort on Pexels.com

 

April Smarts

We sense the sun is on the scout,
With Winter nothing but a pout,
And Spring a whisper to a shout,
And mornings quite the charm.

But hold, before we’re dashing out
And leaving coats to hang about,
For dressing down, not dressing stout,
Could lead us into harm.

I know the sun is warm today,
But sneaky Spring has form, they say –
He loves to send a storm our way !
Yet no cause for alarm…

Just run your mornings by the book
And take your coat down off the hook,
To lodge it safely in the crook
Of a shirt-and-cardy arm.

 

 

Downpour

 

downpour
Downpour by tootdood

 

Downpour

This rain is the rain of Poseidon,
The bullets of Buddha,
The stair-rods of Heaven –
It’s raining all over,
From Doha to Dover,
From Denver to Devon –
The swimmers must swim
And the timid must drown,
While the conquering thunder is taking the town.

This rain is the weeping of Angels,
The bleeding of Furies,
The flooding of Hades –
The wrath of the mountains,
The succour of fountains,
The drencher of ladies –
The cats follow dogs,
And the grey follows brown,
And it looks like it ain’t going nowhere but down !

 

 

Like Rain…

waiting
Waiting for a Friend by Maureen Hyde

 

Like rain…

Now, where was I again ?
Thinking, I think, about my thoughts,
And how many do I have each day ?-
How many zeros-worth, would I say ?
And should I call them ohs or noughts ?
And why is seven longer than eight ?
And eight o’clock, is that too late ?
So when does evening turn into night ?
And goodnight – must it mean goodbye ?
Can we say badbye ?  If not, why ?
And is it really worth the fight ?
Boxing ?  I’ve never seen the draw,
Unless the glove is hiding a claw,
A mutant from a mad professor !
And don’t forget a screaming blond,
Unless it’s bleached and we’ve been conned !
Poor mum was scammed just last month, bless her.
Just last month ?  Or the month before ?
They go so quick, I’m never sure…
But why no ‘h’ in ‘sure’, I wonder ?
Seven wonders – pyramids…
I used to love them…them, and squids…
They’ve got some giant ones, Down Under.
Down…below the upper feathers…
Have they feathers round their nethers ?
Where do birds go in the rain ?
Still pouring, by the sound,
My thoughts just spinning round and round.
Now, where was I again…?

 

 

Bashful Bulbs

white petaled flower
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

Bashful Bulbs

Snowdrops, pale and shy and still,
As if they’re afraid to face the bracing breeze.
Downcast propellers, silent in the chill,
So loathe to disturb the hush beneath the trees.
Always huddled together in their crowds
With the neck of a swan and the wimple of a nun;
Tensed to bare the worst from the clouds,
And wilting away in the first warmth of the sun.