Phillip Knight Scott

The rain plays hopscotch
on the pavement the PLINK 
PLINK PLINK pushing 
its way through the window. It’s light 
as the sun 
still shines with the eerie
shadow of something 
more sinister, bleary.

Only minutes earlier we sang along 
with the wind
as it pampered our skin. The leaves
rustled in accompaniment
as if they were in on the joke … perhaps
they merely borrowed the tune
from us,
singing away another aftern