Grey clouds,

Grey clouds,

Loosely attached

Scud briskly

Glancing this way and that

Collars upturned

Against the wind

Young Turks

Bent on revolution

Hurrying on

With no time to chat

Looking for an escape route

It wasn’t meant to be this way

A fretful sky

Billowing with smokestack haze

A water world London

Hampstead Heath green

Billiard table baize

Dulled for lack of sun

Before the clean air act

Summer days

Are blessed

With repetition

Of good grace

Childhood memories

Laced with satisfaction

Rainy days

Were never meant

To be remembered

Monsoon weather

Ruins more than holidays

In caravans

Hostile clouds fight

For survival

Farmlands awash

With swamp fever

Breathless destruction

Before a change

Of direction

Returns a notion

Of equilibrium

A redress of warm air

Thunderstorms

Become a spent force

Isobars a meeting place

For a first date

Under pressure

Of a rising thermal

And a typhoon

That was never Mary

Whispers in the backwater

Of rainy day

Queensland.