Rainy Season

Prospects are diluted today, rained
steadily from 3 am through to the
present though a few drier spells
were registered vaguely – oddities
where discrete horizon's reappeared
then merged seamlessly into grey

Even knowing the hills behind this
opaque containment are still there
fails to dim obduracy of dread, ease
feelings of drear imperfection; it is
as if a prophecy ended conjecture,
challenged a veneer of change

And I don’t know where this day’s
oblique separation intends – there’s no
hint of benign intervention, intrigue of
bigger egos’ & their avid expectation;
but it would seem to me only pallid
prospects continue to play

Will it end with a bang or a whimper
shivered in a half-breath caught fast
between expletive surprise and sigh
of regret; yet there’s still more to
come, they say, these are early days
the season’s wet has just begun
© 16 January 2012, I. D. Carswell