Irish rain has many guises
there are times it can surprise us,
from cloudless cornflower skies
to gently touch the lids of eyes.
Soft and silently soaking our souls,
it hangs in the air with no great goals
to reach the earth beneath our feet,
yet dampness everywhere we meet.
Long and straight without cessation
it lasts for days to our frustration
turning fields to mini lakes
rivers rising cause consternation.
Icy winds and freezing rain
bring dagger shards of pelting grain
to cut and slice our red raw faces
no time for glitz and glam, bring on the boots and braces.
In the dark and dull December,
from gun mettle skies so heavy and low
weighty raindrops plop in puddles
and make us wish for feather-weight snow.
This home made attempt at poetry is my offering for the topic Rains chosen this week by Ramana for the Loose Bloggers Consortium. Now I suggest you pitter pat along to see what he and the other active members have to share on the subject this week: Anu, Delirious, Maxi, Maria/Gaelikaa, Maria SilverFox, OCD writer, Padmum, Paul, Ramana, Rohit Shackman speaks, The Old Fossil, Will Knott.