Rain Dance

It pelted down from grey,

I had to wonder,

Were you hidden there,

Among the drops that splurged,

Pooling on me,

Filling all my aspects,

Seeping in,

Completion to my urge.

Did you see me

In the arid, panting,

Deserted by the floods,

A thirsty waif,

Eye of kindness,

Centred, calming, soothing

To parched you fell

From earnest plea to save.

I spied you

In the glimmer after, edging

Clouds were brighter,

Sharper than before,

Summer brought

Amid the dark descending,

A fount of love from deluge,

Dripped to core.

Did you see me dance with fervour,

Earthed to heavens,

Dust arise from feet

That stamped for rain,

Arms akimbo,

Did you feel the beating

Purged by purity

To ease dried pain.

 

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Nemesis – or my careless daughter

It gushed and flowed and entered every crevice,

It poured and pelted down relentlessly,

It flooded where it seeped, no malice, no, nor menace,

But source of life a nuisance still to me.

Or daughter maybe, with a careless handling,

Unshuttered doors and singing when I heard

The cascade, yes, a cascade, waterfalling

While I shouted and she heard not a word.

Bugger, damn and feck it, I’m tormented,

The rain it comes, then snow, and now this mess,

I’m buying an ark and sailing off, demented,

Water, in all forms, my nemesis.

Except bluey-geen oceans

and an iced glass.

Life’s Puddles

Puddled, muddied

fresh drops,

Chromatic galaxies;

Comparisons dripped

to relieve.

Scottish Summers

Last year , summer passed us by.

Some people argue that we did, in fact, have it.

We had two lovely weeks in May.

Then it poured.

Almost non-stop through until Autumn.

I remember this because I bought two sun loungers in May (for the bargain price of £25 each) and didn’t bring them back out of the garden hut until this year.

What a bargain they were, eh?

I remember this because my husband is a self-employed gardener and his frustration last year at the weather was palpable. From a man whose moods are not governed by the weather.

I try not to listen to forecasts because they depress the hell out of me.

Some of my not-so-favourite forecasts include phrases like:-

Risk of showers. (It’s going to pour.)

Some sunny spells. (In between pouring rain.)

Heavy rain and high winds. (Speaks for itself.)

What I really want to hear is:-

‘Scotland, this year, will bask in Mediterranean weather conditions.

Due to overwhelming pressure from the Scottish public and tourists alike, I, God, have decided you need to up your Vitamin D levels and I hereby declare a weather amnesty.

Everyone will have the opportunity to enjoy my lovely beaches without an umbrella. Those majestic mountains I created will be seen from top to bottom instead of being shrouded in a hazy rain mist.

You may expose your wan, white flesh to the orb for a period of three months after which you will have a new season.

I realise I have exhausted your sense of humour with what I laughingly called four seasons. It was just a little experiment.

And now it’s over.

You will, from now on, have four distinct seasons.’

Please God, don’t make this announcement on 1^st April.