Rain

A soggy poem

Photo by Matteo Catanese on Unsplash

The grey light of the early morning encompasses all
The rain beating down on my windows at quarter-hour intervals
No sun to treat the newly budding limbs of the Elms
With the rich light it needs to flourish in early Spring
For a moment the rain turns into a mist
As if a shadow has cast its gloom on all I see
From my window that I’ve cracked to feel a breeze
It teases me with a sort of wet sheet before it’s thrown into a dryer
I fear the family photos all tightly arranged on the nearby table
I quickly close the window
The rain pounds for a moment and then the breeze becomes a wind
Looking out pedestrians scatter as their umbrellas fold and break
Next time they should listen to the morning news
To be better prepared for this downpour of rain.
— WOLRAD

(A poem from the Wolrad collection #315)