Friday, 4 October 2013


Wet Nights

 On wet nights the washing line
                                hangs slack,
gently swung by the breath
                                of a breeze,
rousing the sleeping flowers
and fondling drowsy trees.

A strand of flashing droplets slide,
                                 a slow glide,
slip united, smooth as oil,
turn to jewels, glittering
and trembling from a woman’s ear.

© Sue Burley



  1. sweet and gentle, wonderful descriptive words Sue. My photo of raindrops on leaves we took in Richmond park would go well with poem.Clever, talented lady.

  2. Isn't it interesting how words can conjure up memories? This makes me think of my mother...beautiful!