#28 Kevin Brophy 'Waiting and its surprises'

The sky groans as the day moves along
while we wait for promised cyclone rain
to come splashing our way.

A knock on the door,
a woman there when I open it.
Is everything all right, she asks.
Is there anything you want
to complain about?

I could not think of anything
to complain about
not even war, road accidents,
floods or broken glass.
Everything's fine, I said
anxious to shut the door again

and rid myself of the vision of her
leaning forward, smiling, dressed immaculately
as she managed a world of complaints.

I can ring her, she said, if I do
think of anything to complain about.

The sky continues to groan and sweat
its way to a promised spectacular sunset
convincing me that any complaint now
would be churlish.