Rain

The first drops splat
on the pavement, car windows
like egg on a suit.
People fold into doorways
earwigs into corrugations.
Clouds have fulfilled
meteorological prophecy.
The day is half empty.

About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wordcurrents/ Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
This entry was posted in lotus eaters, Poetry, scapes and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Rain

  1. danae McC says:

    Yes, this says it perfectly, the egg, the earwigs, the semi-emptiness. Perhaps a typo – corrugation?

    Reading the daily poems again is a pleasure akin to seeing the autumn crocus.

Leave a Reply to riverwriter Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.