Rain in June
There are ways and means
to lighten life’s dark side,
in spite of the grey veneer hiding
what is the certainty of a blue sky.
Birds tune up their repertoire anyway,
don’t seem to mind – so why should I?
Rain murmers then makes up its mind to shout,
hurtling down gutters, turning roads to rivers.
Seeds sprout headlong, regard it as a treat,
meat and drink, and grow stronger for it;
so when push comes to shove,
mind - why should I?
Swifts swoop in from the heat of Africa,
glossy black, sieving flies from the air.
It’s water off a duck’s back to them;
and the first glowing rose unfurls,
accepts with grace the drenching,
mind – how could I?
© Sue Burley