blue grey opal shoals of storm blow
tonight, though it is still pink pearl dusk,
and each shadow a life of its own.
March was snow, snow, snow and now the clouds
billow soft swollen thick rain dark panoply
— the play about the sky being night —
the warm edges of the approaching storm
wait for us to reach out and embrace
the first rain of Spring, drench ourselves
in your love, as you poise, ready to fill
the evening with irrepressible soul.
Peterborough Poets 