The muggy afternoon invites the evening in
For its release
Heavy, ripe clouds long to burst
And spill their pearly fruits
On the city.
Thirsty soil and twitching grass.
Eyes search the darkening sky,
Wondering when the showers will come.
Until the low rumble,
The spitting and spotting
Of fat drops on the pavements
Becomes a gushing monsoon
That washes the sweaty heat
Into the gutters
Leaving the smell of hot wet roads
And damp leaves dripping.
Prologue:
As I walked up Gray’s Inn Road, the rain came down in thick streams. The dampness working its way through the inadequate jacket that I had borrowed from my Mum’s coat rack.
I heard a slap and looked down to find the box of overpriced, organic salad that I had bought at the train station had fallen through the bottom of the paper bag, its contents of grated beetroot and carrot spilling on the paving stones.
I was late. I was hungry. The baby strapped to my chest had raindrops running down his cheeks. And, I was on my way to have root canal surgery for the second time in a week.
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Heavy swing of doors
Shoes squeak on lino
Low buzz of voices
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Morning fallen from the sky
Magpies dive to catch the silver tide
A box waits on the doorstep
With secrets inside.
A white coin
Hangs in the sky.
It turns and turns
Like a twinkling eye.
Spreads its light
Through houses and dens
And crosses the land
Over fields and fens.
A stretch of sky.
My thoughts drop into shadow.
I can no longer beat my wings,
Standing at the edge of this cliff,
Far below, a sea,
Into which I am about to fall.
I feel the fear of the fall,
Grope around for a hold on the sky.
Can I stop myself dropping into the sea?
No, I am sucked under by shadow.
Losing my foothold on the cliff,
Alone and weak in the wings.
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roshnii 