View From The Downs – July 2015
by Roger Linn
There are days, even in summer, when the view from the Downs is not all it might be, especially when the south-westerly wind brings us warm rain from the south Atlantic.
A Summer Rain
The massive yew tree greenly heaves
Against the westering rain.
Swifts are huddled in household eaves,
The sky’s a darkening stain.
The river rises hour by hour
Along the leaning bank.
Cloudheads climb in muddled towers
Driving rank on rank.
The cricket’s off, no play today,
Sandwiches stiffly bend.
The groundsman has to earn his pay
On the marsh at the rugby end.
Sodden cattle, steaming, huddle
Beneath the hedge’s lee.
The tennis court’s a giant puddle
The lawn’s an inland sea.
The Beacon’s drably clothed in mist,
Whispering windows weep.
Children’s faces damply kissed,
The dog is drowned in sleep.