The rains come with the hail in the dark,
A pelting from the sky and splintered roofs,
In the morning the pollen leaves marks
on panes like streaks of urine and soot,
bushes outbreak pink blossom like a baby’s breath,
green like the gleam in a cat’s eye, a quicker foot.
Gray skies a tad lighter do not portend death,
But the beginning of Spring in slow measure,
the mane of oily roads seem to sleekly melt |
