|Image by R.A.D. Stainforth|
We step out softly to the night
our footfalls sharp upon the stone
the dampness chills us to the bone
we turn our collars to the bite.
Our voices break against the drone
of rhythmic rainfalls' steady beat,
we sidestep puddles in the street
while slowly making way through town.
Felt on the breeze, a tease of warmth
we hope will loosen winter’s grasp,
it calls the colors to unmask…
for in the showers, spring is born.
And walking village streets in rain,
we embrace the season’s change.
© Ginny Brannan 2015
Sharing for Magpie Tales #263. Image provided by Tess Kincaid.