The Leaden Sky

When your nights are all too dark,
And your dawns are all too bright,
And your days are all too stark,
And your thoughts have lost their fight –
When there’s nothing’s worth the heft,
When there’s less-than-little left
That still wants to sparkle in the rust,
And you’re turning-up, but only just –

I find I don’t know what to tell you now
That isn’t patronising –
Urging you to cheer-up, somehow,
This is just a brief downsizing.
But when your nights are all too long,
And when your days don’t feel too strong,
I guess I can’t pretend to know,
Except – I’d hate to see you go.

Sparkle in the Rain

The very first drops and we’re under attack,
The sun is in hiding, the sky is in black,
We pull on our coat and we button our mac,
And we rush to get out of the rain.

Sheltered in doorways and clustered by trees,
We’re watching the drops as they dance in the breeze,
And cursing the spray and the drizzle and freeze,
As we wonder how long must it rain ?

Some make a dash, be they brave or naive,
Breaking from cover when showers reprieve –
Darting from shelter to harbour they weave
As they try to run faster than rain.

Some, with umbrellas, just pleasantly stroll,
Dry and protected with weather control,
But puddles and splashes may yet take their toll,
In the endless and ev’rywhere rain.

The streets have all emptied, the crowds have gone home
The bird have all vanished, the bees seek the comb,
The colours are muted, the world monochrome
As the sunshines wash out with the rain.

The gutters are flooding, and eaves getting drowned,
The kerbs are a torrent, the drains are unbound,
The fountains are pointless, and springs are uncrowned,
And their waters all drown in the rain.

But beauty is here, of a different strain,
For not ev’ry downpour’s a twelve-hurricane –
Why, just ask the ducks why they choose to remain,
And relish the cool of the rain.

Inbetween-Rain

The clouds refuse to play their part,
The air is wet but isn’t draining –
Lazy rain that will not start,
A rainy day without the raining.

The mercury, though getting low,
Has further yet to drop,
And windscreen wipers do not know
If they should go or stop.

Our coats are misted, but are dry,
The downpour still delays its visit.
Palms are upturned to the sky –
It’s not yet worth a brolly, is it ?

The moisture cannot tap its power,
But glowers ‘coming soon’ –
We’re thirty seconds from a shower
All the afternoon.

Storm Warning

The temp’rature is stalling,
And the air is tinged with tin,
The mercury is falling,
And the front is moving-in.
The cumulus is clumping,
And the sun is shafting gold,
The Ninety-Nines are slumping,
And the mugginess turns cold.

The temp’rature is dropping,
And the singing birds are stopping,
And the ringing ears are popping,
And the air is tinged with tin.
The woodpecker is calling,
And weathercock is squalling,
And the mercury is falling,
And the front is moving-in.

The chimneypots are whistling,
And the flies have stopped their buzz,
The static cling is bristling,
And the cats are balls of fuzz.
The thunderheads are stacking,
And the grey is turning black,
The sun is wholly lacking,
And the rumble starts to crack.

The temp’rature’s adjusting,
And the herald-winds are gusting,
And the anvil-tops are thrusting,
And the air is tinged with tin.
The heavy drops are splashing,
And the lightning-bolts are flashing,
And the mercury is crashing,
And the front is moving-in.