Oh, the relenting rain,
where yesterday began
with frost and loured
the afternoon a lurking low,
evening and morning rain,
spilled from grey grails
of clouds entrained northeast,
drizzled, dripped, soft-drizzled again.
Privet leaves splatter-shiny -
grass will extend its lush;
ripple rings feather
the clear bird-bath, where
an ice-sheet dark-glazed
bitter stagnancy.
Moonstones bead the apple tree;
there's a patter on my felt hat;
fingers rest easy on paper
forested with splashes.
YOU ARE READING
Wintering
PoetryIt's yet another MajorSeventh. Hop on the big shoulders and look ... Lastest poems are always posted last in my collections. Winter. So, expect sparse gardens, late autumn and wintry countryside, wry philosophy and humour, tenderness towards litt...
