EVENING
The hectic day slows
to a stop.
Neighbours retreat
into their lairs.
The street breathes
a sigh of relief.
The burned out sky
closes its eye.
Darkness arrives
upon thousands
of shady steps.
CLOUDBURST ABOVE THE LAKE
I
Drops of water are returning to the lake in large numbers.
Armies of them on invisible parachutes.
Success for each drop means
falling back to the lake with a decent splash
creating enlarging circles of impact before dissolving.
And each drop has only one chance to do this well.
II
The complacent kayakers are caught surprised
by the thirty-per-cent-chance rain becoming real. They mutter
under their soured breaths, “Who voted for this?!”
And the ducks give up their dabbling at the lily patch
to shelter under a birch tree. “What?! What?! What?!”
—What’s good about this hard-hitting rain?!
The birch bends down as if to answer. But “What? What? What?”
—The ducks can’t make out the answer
under the heavy downpour.
