Rainy Days


There are times when British weather really gets me down . . . but without it, what an earth would we talk about?

Harsh pitter, patter falling of

relentless heavy rain.

Strong winds are howling round about:

sweet summer here again.

rainy days colourRivers running, rising, rushing,

banks are fit to burst.

Brollies blowing inside out

as weather does its worst.

rainy days colourKids go wild inside the house

as cabin-fever strikes.

Huddled walkers brave the wilds

while scaling dizzy heights.

rainy days colourWindscreen wipers swish and swash

and puddles pool in lanes.

Streams are forming down the streets

from overflowing drains.

rainy days colourCampers sodden in their tents,

they dream of sunshine bliss –

keeping warm and dry is their

one and only wish.

rainy days colourBut twenty minutes later and

the sky’s a brilliant blue.

Birds are calling out their songs

to me, to us, to you.

rainy days colourBritish weather’s changeable.

It switches hour by hour.

A talking point for all of us

from sun to snow to shower.

rainy days colourSo armed with sun cream, sun hat and

 a brolly, just in case . . .

I’m ready for whatever

British weather makes me face.





© Nicky Clifford 2016

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