Summer was grand
(when it eventually arrived)
and we had such a glorious day
(we’d been waiting –
since about February, I would say)
and it was as good
as any Summer that we could remember
(apart from it only lasting twelve hours)
and the next day, and the next day,
(we were back to those showers)
“Welcome, November!”
There’s always a Wednesday in the week,
a ‘hump’ day, if another name for it
you need to seek;
but, when it’s wet and weary
it seems so bleak
until you consider the alternatives…
… it could be a Monday,
or a Tuesday –
and, so, don’t be unhappy with your midweek day,
that is cold, wet, and dismal,
“This can’t be May!”
and, perhaps, you should think about the poor animals
that don’t have a Wednesday
from which they can survey
a Saturday and Sunday,
for them,
every day
is just
another count-your-blessings day.
Who likes to watch the rain cascade
for day upon days upon weeks?
Who is there out there
that a hint of Sunshine seeks?
I’ve been out today,
and what can I say?
Apart from, ‘Do we have enough dry towels?’
Drip,
drip,
drip,
little April showers;
it’s been drip, drip, dripping
for hours and hours;
and the dogs have been wanting
to go out for a walk
for such a long time—
and so we went out
the moment we thought
the drip, drip, dripping had stopped;
and then we copped a bucket full of water
upon our heads,
and it drip, drip, dripped from our clothes instead:
drip, drip, drip, little April showers…
drip,
drip…
drip.
It could be any
of the many days there are;
but, it’s Wetfriddy.
The rain had been,
and was on its way back,
the Sun shone briefly, somewhere,
and a Rainbow was birthed.
And I could see ‘both’ ends,
one in a field to my left,
one in a field, ahead, and to the right;
they were both, in one turn of the head,
within my sight.
But, which to chase,
and would there be gold to find,
the possibilities traversed my mind;
and, at that moment,
the Sun lost its view,
and the rain blew into my face,
and washed the rainbow away.
I stood there speechless,
there was nothing left,
to say.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #PoemForADayDecember, #poetry. #poem, #Rainbow, #Sun, Rain, weather
I sometimes wish
that Cold & Wet
had never met;
but, they did,
and still often keep in touch.
Cold is okay,
has things to say,
but you can deal with
Cold in a sensible way.
Wet is a nightmare,
gets inside your brain
before it all washes away
and flows off down the drain.
If you’d met Dry & Warm,
their cousins,
you’d like them much better;
but, here, shivering, and moist, on the brink,
it’s of Cold Colder & Wet Wetter
I am tending to think.
LATELY
https://littlethings001.wordpress.com/2020/11/09/lately/
— Read on littlethings001.wordpress.com/2020/11/09/lately/
Have a read – it’s quite a thoughtful piece – G:)
There was rain,
then sun,
but, rainbows, none.
I wrote a little poem about it,
this is the one.
It’s dry for five minutes,
so what can I say?
Well, apart from the rain, the storms,
the hail, the thunder and lightning,
the frost, the mist, the drizzle –
and I wasn’t surprised
not to see you out
in the midst of the Cornish mizzle.
However, I must just say,
it’s really been
such a nice day.
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 | cagedunn on And then there were one |
| Words from a Lentil… on My son, Noah. |
| Lucy on My son, Noah. |
