the theft of sound in a summer shower, 1998

after rain the streets are swollen
and the concrete is still warm,
my bare feet
smack
along the footpath

and cars rest
in the shade of jagged wattles,
where neither birds nor feathers
can be seen

the whole town is like
an indrawn breath

storm clouds linger
and I wade into the soft
conversation of morning.

8 thoughts on “the theft of sound in a summer shower, 1998

    • Thanks, Mark! I was really struggling for a while to get something to try and match that feeling around and just before or even after storms. Seems like they’ve come up a lot in my recent work

  1. I sure do Ashley. Your poem inspired me to write my own Aussie humid poem about growing up in Brisbane. So thanks for that. I posted it yesterday. But you can’t go past your ‘the whole town is like an indrawn breath’ – what a great simile.

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