The rain shower

The sun creeps higher, its warmth penetrating the gleaming sticky buds of the chestnut tree
Flies buzz in jagged lines, or bask spread-eagled on the yellows-greens of the new born leaves
The air hangs still and swallows climb in the bluest-blue of the springtime sky
The scent of wild garlic and cow parsley. The sound of a grumbling thrush flitting by

 

The soothing distant mower's hum is cut by the pat! of big drops as they fall
A man with his dog checks upwards, surprised by the billowing clouds that have grown suddenly tall.
The dog cowers at the water whacking and multiplying on the winding path that leads up the hill
The knowing thrush sits patiently on the bow, alert by the leafy nest as her brood falls still

 

Clouds grow and darken, and soon dwarf the village, the town and the church spire
Towering masses, beautiful, breath-taking, immeasurable scale as shapes are pushed higher
Washing-day whites, with sharp lines bulging, rising and curling, and bulging soon again
The dark-grey of under-belly, claws the baked morning air upwards, slowly gathering rain

 

Glassy rods hammer, splintering sparkling, soaking the land in a violent downpour
Mother Earth breathes and sighs as she's fed, while the man and his dog quickly hurry indoors
But in minutes it's over - the wondrous free show of natures boundless and humbling power
The thrush, spying a snail, hops to the bejewelled ground and snatches the treasure from another rain shower