Sunday Skies
Sunday skies, embattled grey and steely clouds Rain spat through sweeping winds And all the streets were washed In the melancholy of winter's sodden silence No one stirred or walked the dog, Except a bedraggled few, thick of coat, And thick of skin, defiant, weather-ragged. Eyes down in an ever weary trudge, Trying to forget their grey misery, Absorbed by Sunday skies. _____________________________ England. Sunday. Winter. Rain. A typical Sunday in this glorious land.
