A loud smattering of hailstones
ends twelve weeks of sun and drought.
Short lived, they yield to fat dollops of rain,
then a light soaking drizzle
and the wee birds return without umbrellas.
From the yellowed grass
I hear a joyful sigh of alleluia.
I sense an instant kiss of greening.
Straggly roses cry raindrop tears of relief.
So generous and kind, they reward my neglect
with big blousy New Dawn pinks,
fragrant ruby reds,
star-bursts of aromatic white and gold.
The sky blues, the sun reappears,
distant thunder rumbles,
thoughts of spikes, second waves, fresh lockdown,
darken my horizon.
My trusted blackbirds
tentative at first, come hopping brightly.
Tentative at first, I trust all will be rightly.