Spring rains,
come as they do,
8 seconds a piece
hurrying you

Spring rains;
flee not away,
you’re wasting your breath
by the trick of the grey

The day is so warm that the flies sit like dogs
on the concrete discreet,
from the hunt of the frogs;
Or toadies in truth,
(how they bellow like crows)
Warty folk called by rain
from their muckedy doze.