Dying back

window wet

The jaunty cheerfulness of wildflowers blown,
flown with the swift, silent swooping of the swallows.

Brown stalks stand still,
though the rot has taken the juice from them,
stark reminders of what has gone,

and only hope in the hypothetical return
of the warm certainties of what once was,
lingers among damp roots,
burrowing deep into the cold earth.

And then the rain

Constable

1280px-Constable_-_Seascape_Study_with_Rain_Cloud

When the sky presses down elephant grey

and swells so full the dams of the sky break,

 

shedding the spray of deep ocean waves, sharp

as steel and tasting of tears,

 

and the light dims to the darkness of a crypt,

I cringe inside this fragile shell by the stuttering,

 

muttering of the stove and listen to a lonely dog

bark on the hill, as it sniffs the coming storm.

Rain-washed

A semi-circular poem inspired by dog-walking after the first autumn rain.

The lovely watercolour is by Eduard Tomek

Pole

After the stormy night,
Bright morning glitters on the field,
Healed the scars left by the rain,
Pain of your leaving washed away.
Stay with me in this dawning,
Morning sunlight,
Moonlight,
Starlight,
Right the harsh words spoken in heat,
Sweet memories linger in a rain-washed field.

After the rain

1280px-Red_vineyards

There is nothing more uplifting

Than the sight of sunlight through the clouds

A golden torrent pouring from the broad sky’s sea

Turning the last drops of cold lead rain

To a river of cascading gems.

And when the trees are bathed in liquid light

From among the dripping leaves the music starts,

Triumphant robins shout their riotous notes

And listening enraptured we can forget

Just for the time of a small bird’s song

That winter lies on the dark side of the sky.