I thought I heard the patter
Of rain on the roof
Consciousness leaned forward towards it
Eagerly waiting
But it was just wishful thinking
Fooling me again
*dry beginning to spring. The smell of the earth, grass, as I run past it, you can feel the anticipation in the air.
Warming, waking, yet still the land is thirsty, dusty. Soon, the wind has shifted to the north. The weather lady is hopeful in her bright jackets and big smile, she had been in my living room for so long – years – every night I listen to Jenny (unless she is on holidays) Weather ladies, we grow old with them still telling us the auguries of the weather Gods
In the old days they would be witches. Jenny has led me astray with her reports from the bureau – sometimes I think nobody knows more than any other human about what the weather is going to do
We just think wishfully
But the ants know
The Willy Wag tail awake at 3am, shifting himself to the shed
That bird never sleeps
Permanently excited and curious
Like me
Today
Perhaps
Spring rain
