Poem by PJ – an anonymous contributor


Pitter-patter, pour and splatter, panic when it rains

Drops like tears spur shivered fears but are welcomed by the grains

Air is brisk and cool and crisp, senses stir awake

Children frightened, couples brighten, geriatrics groan and ache

Cold are bones when it rains stones, pelting from the heavens

Or so it feels to bikers, hikers, when it starts to pour at seven

Forget the chill, the muddy hills, and listen hard instead

To the whistling wind, the melodious hymn, as water and nature wed

The sun will rise to reign the skies and the dew, sadly, won’t linger

And smog and grime will return in time to blanket the earth by dinner

Rain, though cold and wet, is gold for the sweet reprieve it poses

From the weary sweat of life’s regrets as its draws you to dewy roses