Bulbous clouds roll in
over sheep laden hills,
bringing thunder and rain.
With a good mile to go
and a bunion on my toe
I grit my teeth and power through,
jumping puddles in the lane
like a champion hurdler:
well... I've washing on the line!
A gusty wind comes a-flirting
with my brolly
and lifts her flapping skirt
in random folly.
Yanked from my grasp
as cows block our path,
"Don't leave me", I wail,
reaching up for the handle.
Homeward we race, wind in our sail,
soaring over lofty fields of grain
and hedgerows bursting with berries.
Carried along at such a speed
like riding a prize winning steed;
ahead of time, I land in my garden.
All is dry as the rumble grows
and the sky begins to spit:
Brolly is rolled and clothes unpegged.
~ It’s a rather wet morning here, on the island, and the clouds appear to want to hang around forever. Sipping my first coffee of the day whilst watching the rain out of the tall window, I penned this poem. If you ever find yourself stuck in rain then I hope you have a brolly like mine. Have a good week, all Xx ~