Of a rain washed world
Waiting to drip-dry.
Dewdrop encrusted leaves
Gradually let their load fall
In diamond sparkling drips.
Softly water blurred puddles
Reflect the blue upturned sky
Smudged with white cotton remnants
Of rainstorm clouds.
Starlings perch self-importantly
On TV aerials across suburbia
Fizzing and bubbling
Their squeaky melodies,
Welcoming the sun into a new day,
And smiling as it bursts onto the wet tarmac
Turning it to glittering golden shine
In a way that only morning sun can do.
I wrote this back in 2001 after an overnight rainstorm and a walk to the bus stop in the morning, which was *stunningly* beautiful. The memory still remains, and this poem is (perhaps) one of my favourites.