Grey Day May - Andrew Barham

The black days of bleak November
Arrive ever earlier these days
How well do I remember
Those May skies of sunlight and grace,
But day after day the weary rain falls down
And that early promise of Summer fades –
All around me, the cars circle the town
Manically flashing their wiper blades;
Sluicing the dense rain onto the paving
Where the passers-by hunch and huddle
Like bent figures from an old engraving
As they step around the deepening puddles:

I dream of Poe and his bleak December
While longing for the warm Summer Sun –
But we are bereft, left only with its dying embers;
Spring has sprung and already it's done,
May Day ushered in with slatey skies of grey;
Waiting, waiting, waiting for a glimpse of blue,
A burst of sunshine to lighten up our days,
Spring's bright promise of a world renewed –
Halfway through May, and where are the flowers?
They are barely showing through the soggy ground.
Halfway through May and these cold April showers,
Endlessly, monotonously, just keep coming down.

Andrew Barham