The very finest grade of rain falls
quite a few seconds before gaining notice,
so thinly and faintly sketching itself
upon the air.
Hardly a kiss on wrist
dots so tiny, spaced over paper.
But,
oh, it's a precursor, a taster, the tease,
'The merriment and whatnot,'
Eeyore would say,
of the quality drizzle to follow -
in some quantity too.
Well... the apple tree's nearly done,
most petal remnants hiding under shelter,
save for the bravest adornments,
the fairy ones, the stars at the very top,
co-opting the blackbird's whistle,
returning my wave as I...
desert!
