memoirs, art and fragments by Thomas Milner

The King of the Rainy Country

The sea is not calm today

The horizontal slash grey

With foreboding

The swaying sobbing trees

The lightning flashes

The soundless arc-lights

Of distant strife.


A flock of small birds

Wheel in agitation

Against the dark sky.

A gust of wind

The hiss of rain

And the storm is upon us.


I snuggle deeper into my warm bed

And rejoice.

I am The King of the Rainy Country, I think;

Je suis comme le roi d’un pays pluvieux.

I exult that I have survived,

So far I have survived.


Comments on: "The King of the Rainy Country" (1)

  1. I love the poem! (And that rainy country – sounds like where I live. 🙂 )


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