STREET SCENE.

Rain,
Cold rain,
Heavy cold rain,

And again,

And loud,

And out the window
It’s ever present,
From one end of the terraced panorama
To the other,
Covering all there is,
Bleaching further the working-class aspect,

And it’s coming down in
Crowds
Of thousands,
Earthbound with an intensity
Unlike any
Industrial event

And strengthened by a lack of
Showery action
In the south,

And I hope it’s enough
To quench the Earth’s thirst,
Otherwise they’ll have us on rations
By the end of March

And wishing for more water
Than there is today,
Which is everywhere,
Except inside,

Or maybe I spoke too soon...