Wet Sunday

A serpent’s tail spring poem.


Grey and full of rain,

pain fills the eyes of the sky,

flying with ragged clouds.

Shrouds of mist,

kissed by damp earth,

worth more than gold,

cold but full of life.

Knife-edge to the wind that stings,

rings the bare-budded trees with rime—

time for spring to show, we say,

grey and full of rain.


Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

12 thoughts on “Wet Sunday”

    1. It’s a type of circular poem that I’m claiming maternity of. The last word of the first line rhymes with the first word of the next and so on in a serpentine form until the first line comes around again and the serpent eats its tail.

      1. There are apparently lots of different kinds of circular poems, mostly circular argument rather than rhyme, but none of them is at all like what I was calling a circular poem. So I thought of a name that describes it better.

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