This grey’s there like a blank wall, not quite dolorous
yet but indubitably heading that way; occasionally an
air resonant of discontent is expressed in echo-vibes
lent by passage of vehicles swooshing by - & then its
implicitly sanitised again, embraced in rain’s soft sigh
thus gentle intermezzos grow along gutters aflow as
showers drizzle into metronomic rain - we’re hearing
a same sonorous beat blending credibly with sounds
from the street with aeroplanes woven discretely into
this baleful grey shroud - but we’re at ease anyway
it’s a Sunday we’d gladly let be a week without worry,
there’s water in our creeks and dams drink copiously
from a discretionary largesse that we know has yes,
floods are a distinct possibility, clearly written over it,
tho we believe gentle rains like these are all blessed
© 19 June 2016, I. D. Carswell 
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