Rain Poem by Andy Brookes

Shaking trees weep rain, rain, rain.

and the rain, rain, rain, thoserepetitive accumulations
drench with meaning but encoded

clouds scud, mostly no moorings, racingLa Mons like, shredded with occasional blue.

leaves are stuck, glued to the windows,pavement pasted slick with rainy goodness.

drip, drip, drip, outside my window the gutters are full of themouldering dead.

Saturday and still it's a rush hour as automobiles or cars, depending on your Atlantic drift, passswishingand disgorging puddles on to unsuspecting pedestrians.

and still shaking trees weep rain, rain, rain.