It’s the constant rain that gets us down;
Each time that
pitter-patter sound
Assails my ears,
I heave a sigh
And stare
forlornly at the sky…
While forests
blaze in far-off places
And domes of
heat bronze happy faces
Belgians dare
not venture out
Without their
trusty brolly stout!
Grey skies
dampen morning mood
Strong feelings,
negative, intrude
No wonder we
are feeling blue
This August; will
the sun peep through?
My raincoat
rustles with much use
Yet sometimes,
I feel a recluse
As constant
rains sap threads of joy
And all my social
plans annoy!
Though window
panes are sparkly clean
The pavement puddles
form a stream
That carries
debris down the hill
Around tall weeds
which taunt me still!
(c) Poet in the woods 2021
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