June Elder
Seven
days of rain seem biblical,
how
many kinds can there be?
Drizzle,
mizzle, patter,
sprinkle,
easing up, pouring down......
Squalling
wind has scattered confetti across the lawn
discarding
your tiny flowers with abandon.
Now
for the anticipation of fruitfulness,
the
burgeoning of pulpy purple clusters,
intoxicating
abundance ripening,
if
only the clouds would release the sun.
13.06.12
