The Residue
Rain in the gutter,
muttering as it gushes down
through the drain cover.
Water in volume, rushing along,
so strong and powerful,
buffeting the kerb stones and mortar
at the pavements edge,
wedging the silt up into a pile,
and all the while,
building it higher and higher.
When the streams subside,
the residue is left to be dried,
by the sun,
and the wind whisks it up in swirls,
and it is deposited further down the street,
to meet up with other surplus dust.
A never ending circle of events,
happening in this gutter,
even a strutter such as a pigeon
taking his morning bath,
knows the culvert well.
Wearing his feathered mackintosh,
preening his plumage, cleaning his quills,
he displays no frills.
Rain in the gutter,
is muttering, and the pigeon is fluttering,
perched on the drain cover.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Added by Poetry Lover
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