Rain Walking

 

 

 

 

Dog stands by the door, feet planted, tail still
While I put on wellingtons and a mac
Dog’s eyes say: ‘Terriers hate the rain; don’t you know nuffink?’
Collar and lead on, we set out
Past the village store, open all hours
Past the house with the broken gate
Where lives a woman with a broken heart
Past the post box, unleashing love and hope
And bills (but nobody wants those)
And to the footpath, muddied and brown
Moving through fields of overripe wheat
Looking up I feel the kiss of clouds
As rain, fine as sea spray
Mists my nose, cheeks and eyelids
Field after field, until dog and I are bound for home
Each wetter than a paper boat

 

 

16.08.19 Beverley Harvey

 

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