On my way to buy a paper #89

Puddles, hole-punched-edges
Pills of May blossom
forced from the middle
by the force of the rain

From my window

The vividness of a wet red car
against the new-soaked green of fresh-mowed lawn
and baby hawthorn leaves

St Ives

From within the restaurant (drinking cider, eating fish)

we are alerted to the arrival of yet another shower

by the groping at of hoods and the uprising of umbrellas.

From my window

Raindrops on the only slightly open window

invisible against the pale blank sky

become silver streaks and saucer-shapes

in contrast to the wine red sycamore beyond.

On my way to buy a morning paper, # 66

Fresh-damped dust and ancient pepper -
the smell of new rain following nearly a week of dry

On my way to buy a morning paper #57

Sun behind my head
patching black tarmac paths
with puddled blue-sky promise.

On my way to buy a morning paper #53

Rain-washed red jelly-babies
Imitating tiny turds

From the back balcony

Broken tree
leafless stubby branches
building a ladder for suicidal lunatics;
disappointed by the relentless determination of the stone-dropped rain.

Tennessee post catfish and fried green tomatoes

Straight down rain and little thunder,
sky paler than butter
bleached the leaves by several shades
burnt the tree trunks black.

On my way to buy a morning paper #41

The efficiency of the rainwater drains
not quite matched - thank goodness -
by the split in the seam of my boot

On my way to buy a morning paper #9

Spat of rain and rustling raincoat,
squelch and slick of squeaking boots,
detract from silent dark and thoughtful contemplation.

Foreboding

A sudden gloom makes it hard to see the page
and I dash outside to rescue the near-dry washing.

Heading south towards Grantown-on-Spey

An apprentice piece, a sampler of exuberant, lively clouds
complimenting the yellow-gold scallop-edged dish of hills,
dashed silver with a streak of wet run roads.

Before I get up

The uneven hiss and faint murmur,
occasional single spot plink,
informs me I will need boots today.

On my way to buy a morning paper #4

Pink neon reflected on the fish and chip shop tiles,

and again across the puddled tarmac of the car park,

a fractured, trailing Isadora Duncan chiffon scarf.

Seen from a balcony in North Carolina

Bracken ancient, arrowed tip resting on part circle drawn in concrete by the dripping from above.
Leaves blinking with a rain-hit tic, a cat's ear twitch at stimulus unknown.

Awaiting an opportunity to dance the polka

Silver, semi-spherical static raindrops on the windscreen
circles echoing and overlaid
by reflected rowan berry clusters,
green and orange.