last day of the month
snow may come again and rain
last day of winter
rain
optimism / pessimism
enough light shines through
diamond points of frozen rain
gutters stream half-full
It rained and then the sun
It rained and then the sun
came out. There should have been
a rainbow but
there was not one to be seen.
The petrol on the puddle in the road
would have to do.
Kilcol scooped up the water
and held it in his cupped palm.
His hand shook lightly,
raising gentle waves that flashed
the blue-brown rainbow sheen.
The sun disappeared. Kilcol, bored,
dropped the water and wiped his hand.
The rainbow smeared across the pavement
for a while. Nobody noticed it.
More rain came. No sun.
“Happy birthday to me”
He stood in the rain holding a tray with six glasses, singing “Happy birthday to me” as the glasses slowly filled.
Beach. Storm.
First the electric scent of the burning sand as the greasy black clouds roil up from the sea horizon.
Then the hiss of the rain hitting the beach and the steam and the smell of the earth beneath the sand.
What I meant was “It’s coming on to rain”
The odd spots and dots of rain are now being joined by the evens; the pale pavement a monochrome Pollock on fast forward.
Glass half full
Jamie’s a glass half full kind of guy. Except his is half full of whisky, rain and many, too many, tears.
I sat the sky on the naughty step
I sat the sky on the naughty step
and asked it why it was crying.
But it just sat there shivering and dripping
on the carpet.
Then with a start it took its head out from among its clouds:
“I’m cold”, it said.
So I thought about the story of the sky and the rain
and anthropomorphising it a little more
but it was cold and I could not see the point
or the wallpaper through the mist.
Yesterday, dressed all in black
Yesterday, dressed all in black, I ran round the Meadows in the rain, just keeping up with my pal in sunburst orange. It may have looked as if I were chasing him. The wind and my tight fitting black hat stopped me hearing what most hurriers by were saying but one couple’s words filtered through: “That ninja’s let himself go a bit, hasn’t he?”. They smiled at each other and never saw the katana.
The headless man
The headless man strides down the road towards me. Sure, decided steps. Then the streetlight behind him shines through his umbrella. Relief.
simonsalento 