Posted by: John Looker | 12 August, 2015


Poetry from John Looker


There are certain summer mornings when the rain drifts
sideways, almost a mist, and all is doused
in a wash of silvers and greys: colours from a palette
of pebble and lichen, herring gull and trout.

Sun hats are thrown aside
in favour of anoraks. Plans
are revised. Do we miss the sun?
The primary blue, the glare? Well, yes.

But the air is fresh and sweet and raindrops cling
to wires and glistening leaves. Snails will inch
out from the hedges shining, while we just drift
idly: from breakfast … to morning coffee … to lunch.

© John Looker 2010

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  1. I first posted this in 2010. I was prompted to look at it again after reading a new poem by Anna Mark on her blog at:

    Also we are having a wet few days here in England.

    Liked by 1 person


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