Rain has given up beating the roof,
the birds are, cautiously, starting to sign.
It's a gloomy morning, the clouds stay
entrenched on the sky, ready to unleash
more on the soaked landscape. Sleet
might come, they prophecy, and in a
few days, snow. And rain, cold,
cold rain, beating on the roof,
beating on the panes, in
the long cold spring.
27.04.2023
#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse
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