Morning After

Cool-morning peace

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.