Rainfall slipping from the sky
World being cleansed before my eye
Rushing off, I don’t know where
Yet still I watch, still I stare
Wondering if I’ll wash away
Simpler, I think, just to stay
Seems such sadness, yet so bold
To start again, never fold
I’ll let the tears cleanse my soul
Raindrop Mondays make me whole
Rain sweeps down in bursts of sea,
Roads turn to lakes, paths to streams.
Blackbirds take shelter beneath umbrella leaves;
I hear their twitterings float away into a damp distance.
Even the trees hang their heads in wet slumps.
All is damp, all is grey.
Weather for ducks, my mum used to say.
But despite the cold and clammy walk,
Despite the pooling water around my feet,
I know that tomorrow the path will be washed clean.
As the days on the calendar flick away
The mornings shortening, nights lengthening
And the winds blow as North regardless of direction
The birds flown away, nests deserted
Then the winter is almost upon us
And I watch for the first flakes of snow
Knowing that soon the clean slate shall come
And from it a new year be birthed