Chuck-It-Down Weather

‘They’ do not matter

And friends and strangers pose

Much better puzzles and living life

Than homogenous foes.

Rain comes hardest without a coat

But the price of cold

The discomfort clinging to your skin

Wiping your eyes

Is the sight of skies breaking open

Walking the Path

And seeing the timid bemoan downhill water.

By J.W.H. Hobbs.

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