June Evening: On The Banks Of The River Foyle Poem by bryan wallace

A gentle summer breeze,
Rustles through the leaves of the ivy-smothered ash tree,
Through the bracken, hazel bushes, nettles, thistles and cocksfoot grass.
Little wavelets appear on the water's surface;
Wind turbines on the horizon, they gracefully rotate.
An ugly, angry lead-grey cloud is hanging over Prehen -
It's blowing across the river - rain could be on its way.
Through gaps in the hedgerows I catch glimpses
Of the speeding traffic on the A5 -
Bound for Strabane, Lifford, Omagh and beyond.
Trees and distance mute it's noise to just a steady thrum,
The song birds in the trees behind me carry on their merry tune.
A Red-Admiral butterfly hovers into view -
It's striking colours adding beauty to my day.
In a field behind Prehen, a farmer's baling hay -
I'm sure he's taking anxious glances,
And saying an anxious prayer, to the leaden sky above.

But wait…

Chinks are now appearing in the leaden sky -
The sky now becomes a patchwork quilt of various greys and blues.
Now orange is added to the mix -
As rays of sunlight filter through -
Adding an amber sheen to the mirror-like surface of the river.
The rain has held off for now -
The farmer's prayers were answered.

It's all too easy to forget when our life,
Seems overcast, and grey -
But the sun is always shining.
Should it disappear from view -
Just wait and it will return again for you!