THE VILLAGE

Wilfred H. Taylor

It rains no more for the sky is blue

And, underfoot, the red earth is warm again.

Thatches on houses are vappour shrouded

And there is that smell of clean air about.

The roadside shrubs

Now summer green

Wave to catch the eyes of passers-by

Whilst children,

Relieved from the pre-storm tension,

Laugh as they play and run about

And

Palm trees,

Lithe and languid tall,

Sway in the breeze

And drizzle

What is left of  the rain.