Wet Wednesday week,
It’s raining buckets again –
buckets, I have lots.
We went out walking,
and we got wet;
then, the Sun came out,
and, yet…
I had to cry out
(It was almost a shout,
into the sky)
‘Where is my Rainbow?”
It wasn’t there…
why?
It could be any
of the many days there are;
but, it’s Wetfriddy.
One wet foot,
one dry one,
which one feels at home?
Let me take a bow
to the rain
and how it falls upon me.
And how that I can get
absolutely soaking wet
which is never quite beyond me.
I was standing in the sun
it shone on everyone
but, especially, on me.
And then I saw the bow,
took a picture so I’d know
that the Sun had even been…
here, with me.
So, now I’m drying off
I sniffle and I cough,
a sneeze is soon forthcoming,
Because, I went out in the Sun
and came home in the rain,
that upon my head was drumming.
“The Weather is here!
You know what? It’s always here;
wet, dry, cold or hot;
we just always seem to have
the weather that we have got.”
It is a ‘wet’ Thursday.
There is little more to say.
In fact, as the year is heading to its ‘wet’ end,
Most days of the week
Will require people to seek
The illusory safety
Of a brolly.
How jolly.
Ode to a soggy (moist) monarch
So, King
How long the reign?
Once you were a high
(And dry)
King
Then all of a sudden…
Sodden.
Precipitous amounts of children
All rhyming with water
No sun for you
What a rum do
So, King
What is your plan two?
What to try out
To achieve a dry out?
In pain you cry out
“Il fait pleut!”
So, King
Let the bells wring out
To call upon the great plumber in the sky
To show pity on you
May it be so
King.
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Graeme Sandford 