Dank Grey Day

Day dawned dank grey.
Sky pre-washed to ashen, cuddled in.

Cats on tippy-toes dipped their toes in puddles
stalking prey, huddled to pause, slumbering in.

Birds ruffled dew drop spots from feathers,
distracted to pause their prattle tattle calls
by the gloom of low slung clouds engulfing the din.

The dank cupped hands of horizon clouds 
called for hush in prayer
to say grace with the morning gathering, all misted-in in fog.

The dewy gossamer mist turned to gentle rain, 
almost embarrassed
to fall with pitter-patter plinks and plops 
echoing from puddles, leaves and panes.

The shower done with its drenching, quenching drizzle, 
passed overhead
and curtain-called the sun to get up, 
to stand to attention,
and to herald the day 
to get on with its business.