An Afternoon's Downpour Poem by John Tristan Tench

Rags canvassing the obscured windshield-
Oh, how futile the effort.
Loud mumblings of people aloft;
My eyes I do for bright light shield.
Stranded babes on the city's streets.
The fruits of our labor
Lacing the roads with water sheets.
Scared tourists regretting their five grand.
Literature students rushing homeward;
Limping teacher there already, feet and
Body, mind, relaxed. I lone to venture
Home, watched as she paddled her
Bus through the thick; all in nature's
Malicious reckoned with awe.