When the Rains Come

After the long, grim months
of stern, extended drought
that had the farmers
sadly complaining of
the scarcity of summer food -
the grass was leastways
three weeks late if not much
more – right now the glassy blackness
of our late night windows
gets adorned with yellow pearls
where the streetlamp's haze
lightly touches the first drops
of rain: though none too abundant,
yet the first heralds of spring.
There's a change
in the weather that will please
farmers and gardeners; they will
bask in the longed-for and
welcome cold May rain. John Coltrane
plays Soul Eyes and the patter
of raindrops stays outside
the sheet of wet darkness
and there's coffee and biscuits
but the chill down my back
is intensified rather than
taken away by the sight –
the damp, misty drizzle
that starts the new season
in macs and umbrellas
is rather too apposite
and only a prologue.
Quite soon the deluge
that will keep me transfixed here
is going to follow.