A passing shower

Billowing black Incandescent
cotton cloud. Building fast
between bursts
of brilliant blue,

Wind, a silent shepherd skulks
and brings them home
in breaking bunches
dashing drifts
of wispy wayward sheep.

The strong sun, warmest
at the very verge
of black death, fades away,
lost and back then lost again

As dark descends bird bustle
to a green hide of holly hedges.
The strong staccato strike
of summer rain lashes grass.

Not some soft affair of lovers
kisses or gentle hands hotly
caressing
but strong the sound,

The beat of bass and brash
bassline.
Thunder thuds and rumbles
not far off.

And then, racing like a joyful
child, wild,
bouncing beads of water
tumble fall, collide

Until energy abates
the world waits, under trees
and bushes, and brown bus
shelters

Silence. Drops drip dropping in
lip slap rhythm.
Gutters overflow
and plastic throats gargle

Gushing gargoyle spit
and polished pavements glows
as copper domes reflect
starbursts.

Sun returning as if the passing shower
was just a summer memory.

-Dave Kavanagh

3 thoughts on “A passing shower

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