In the half light
Of a veiled sunrise,
Trees bow and sway
The eastern horizon
Bruised and mouldering
Prepares the cloud bank -
Nimbus - dark and laden.
At bus shelters and train stations
Young women fight to control summer skirts
And young men pretend not to notice,
While trying to keep their hairstyles in place.
The mood is grey
The threat of rain is real
We retreat within ourselves -
While the flowers remain bright yellow.
golden flowers shine
through my somber times
(It looks like the moon is stuck up a tree, and I’m in the mood for a nice cup of tea – words by ‘Buck 65’ Click here)
summer rain threatens
moon seeks shelter in a tree
today I sleep-in
You ask should we walk
on such a dismal morning?
When for me, the weather is merely cream
on an already delightful idea.
Even with the rain;
Does not the light still reflect in your eyes?
Do not the buildings still stand erect?
Glorified by our observations
as water cascades from vigilant gargoyles?
Will not the crepe
Proffered by the early morning vendor
be just as sweet, as one consumed
when rain declined to hiss upon this pavement?
Will not your lips be just as tender
even when dampened
with a light Parisian mist?…
For me your company remains,
undiminished by these sideshow acts of nature
summer rain sublimed
virga teases the hot earth
trilling frogs slumber