burke: The Rain #13

today is
overhung with grey

only the clock moves
at a steady pace

the old dog sleeps
on the pub veranda

until the sky
grumbles and breaks

bucketing down
on the parched earth

and the gutters
overflow

seed pods floating
off to catch

on other gardens
sheets fill like sails

indoors
tempers fray

at the bar
a beer in his hand

a farmer looks out
disconsolately