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.