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bardiphoukaYes I know it is late, but then the poem is about something that happened the day before that so perhaps it all fits
There is a long, low rumble
as the sky comes unfastened
and there is deluge of water...
that brings out a colourful
cornucopia of umbrellas
twirling, colours overlapping,
held tight by hands praying along
the handles for dryness.
There is a long, low rumble
as the sky comes unfastened
and there is deluge of water...
that brings out a colourful
cornucopia of umbrellas
twirling, colours overlapping,
held tight by hands praying along
the handles for dryness.
Except for one umbrella, black
and bouncing from
curb to cub free from
everything except the
brisk wind of Spring.
