As the rain plummeted down,
Beating upon the hard surface of stone,
The land around me sparkled.
Streaks of light penetrate,
The dense fog of the cloud.
Rain pitter-pattering with a smattering of rhyme,
Upon the terraces drenched and soaked,
For in my mind I am in an inlet of Caswell bay,
Scanning the rain from an echoing cave.
Seashores of cockle and shell shimmer and ring on frosted arcs,
Replenished in a paddle boat,
I row through the minds pastures,
Of droplets teeming with life in the netherworld of lakes and seas.
POEM COPYRIGHT PAUL JONATHAN STOKES
ART COPYRIGHT JON HAWARD 2011