Sunday, 22 November 2009

I'll Call It Poetry If I Want

The sodden grey sky
Dropped cold water all night
The sodden ground, squelching
The sodden trees, drooping and dripping
The sun finally triumphed
Pushing aside cloud to reveal blue
The raindrops glisten on limbs and leaves like wet rhinestones
(This is the North, we don't have diamonds up here)
Some small short-lived relief from sodden weather
Sodden, soddin', wind and wet, cold and damp.

1 comment:

Boywilli said...

Still, you don't have to go out and water the new turf everyday if it rains all the time