The constant hiss
Of the mid-evening rains
Has subsided;
And its place
Has been claimed
By the energetic singing
Of the refreshed sparrows;
The light is somewhat reduced,
As was the spirit of Life itself
Under the influence of the overcast skies;
The freshly washed leaves
Shine away in contrast,
The lack of breeze making them unmoving;
And, while all this happens,
This poem comes tumbling out -
Apparently with
No rhyme or reason!
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after reading your other new postings this morning, I get the impression you were not your normal self. But after reading this, I think the "temporary bad weather of life" seems to have passed.
...Michael