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Poetry by Tom Stanley
 


 

 
Scatter-beat

 

raindrops dancing to their little syncopated scatter-beat
the breeze whistling as if the song is on the tip of it's tongue, but forgotten
the storm, the calm, before and after in chaos' wake;
what more could you ask from clouds?

sunshine, dispelled like rumour in the overcast halo of bleak
drowning the sky in dour drizzling sputter
the day passing in obscurity failing to greet
our wondrous gaze for the tendrils of breaking sparkle.

this day, borne unto the world in the driving cycle
it passes overhead like a cataclysm looming, tossing it's tears at us in fury
but like all things it wanes, it's stalking presence moves on, away,
the sun's embracing heartbeat in our eyes, as they dance to the scatter-beat of life.

© Tom Stanley

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