
Rain falls
On damp pavement
Night falls on city streets
Commuters scramble homeward-bound
To sleep
Padre
Rain falls
On damp pavement
Night falls on city streets
Commuters scramble homeward-bound
To sleep
Padre
As the rhythmic beat of the wipers competed with the ebb and crescendo of the drumming of the rain, Mort watched as the motorists whose only ailment was an allergy to getting rained-on scrambled from the disabled parking spaces. Mort watched, and thought to himself how much he hated the task which lay before him; but his mission – as feared and despised as death itself – beckoned. He took a deep breath, then adjusting the rain cover on his uniform cap, he grabbed his ticket book and exited the Parking Control vehicle.
—————
Padre
Pixabay
Dust-dry ground heated
And soon to be baked by the sun
Bleached grass and receding ponds
E’er since the Spring begun.
Where are those kisses of moisture sweet,
Those drops of cooling life?
Wispy cloud pass over head
But their rich treasures they withhold.
Then it happens a few sharp drops,
Bullet-like pelt the ground.
Dust explodes from impact firm
But then the barrage does cease
The teasing done, the clouds move on
Leaving the sun to bake in peace
Padre
Image by Erika Varga from Pixabay
The wet kiss of mist
The refreshing cloud-borne gift
Life-giving raindrops
Padre
Heeding Haiku With Chèvrefeuille, March 11th 2020, raindrops