Rain in June
There
are ways and means
to
lighten life’s dark side,
in
spite of the grey veneer hiding
what
is the certainty of a blue sky.
Birds
tune up their repertoire anyway,
don’t seem to mind – so why should I?
Rain
murmers then makes up its mind to shout,
hurtling
down gutters, turning roads to rivers.
Seeds
sprout headlong, regard it as a treat,
meat
and drink, and grow stronger for it;
so
when push comes to shove,
mind - why should I?
Swifts
swoop in from the heat of Africa,
glossy
black, sieving flies from the air.
It’s
water off a duck’s back to them;
and
the first glowing rose unfurls,
accepts
with grace the drenching,
mind – how could I?
© Sue Burley