There Is No Hail Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

There is no hail
That falls this frosty morn
But in the distant fields
The thunder lights and claps.

The grey skies dim and sere
Lie - the waters wild
Half-grey and murky move
With every gust of wind.

Above, above in every house
The lights go up with dawn
And one by one
The lights like stars of night
One by one become alight.

A rare bird flies
Across the turgid sky
A bat returns
From its night rounds to hang itself
Where human eyes see not.

And down the city stairs
The flurry of hurried feet every now and then
The driving of the car, its razing heard:
And fits and gusts of wind
Around the corner play.

If day can be so sad and drear then what will the night be?