December's Rain

...well, so much for the plan to dry laundry out-doors...

December’s rain is a refrain

Unlike those splashes in July

It weeps from heaven’s lowered deeps

A morbid, midday lullaby

And pelts the window-pane with tears

Hard-wrung from frozen yester-years

Where every summer disappears

To gardens in thought’s eye

December’s rain evokes a strain

Of echoing farewells and dreams

It breaks the sky where heaven-sighs

Are too heavy for vapor-seams

And spills in autumn-postlude where

No leaf flounders upon its stair

Of pewter-gilded, groaning air

And moody-brooding streams

December’s rain is a freight train

That rushes through stiff-fingered trees

Its cargo spills to streets and hills

In cold, unfeeling melodies

As brave feet dash with common goal

Where fires warm both hands and soul

While December rain shiver-rolls

Across a world of seas

© Janet Martin