November Rain

Three anglers stand in the estuary in front of me fishing.

Her eyes of silver grey reflect the sky on a blustery day.

Continuous driving rain seeped into my veins; dripping.

Time is a funnel; truth drops slowly down its gully.

I cross the bridge, feeling blessed as thoughts flood

and memories return. In the shadow of the cathedral,

I park sipping my Ethiopian coffee.

Another dreary dismal week, my days merge.

I decide to write a blog.