The birds understand
the sky is a thick grey blanket
rippling in slow waves
releasing the unmistakable smell of about to rain
they were here this morning
among the roses
regaling with their sunshine songs until
they must have been cautioned by the wind to pack up their belongings
and take a little daytrip
Me? I’m not so wind-tuned.
There I sat as the sky changed, lost, deep in the pages of my book
splattered with raindrops
listening for birds that were no longer there.
(Day 30: 1 subject 30 ways #sensorypoem)