So when it rains, the water has a voice.
I sit beneath them, listen to the clack
And clatter of the droplets. Happy choice
It was, to build them on. All that ribbed steel
Is like a camper's roof. When I was young
And slept up in the bunk on trips, I'd feel
And hear drops inches from me. How I've clung
To memories like these as time has passed.
Now it's just me, my patio, cigars,
A border collie and the great contrast
Twixt grey skies and green yard, and passing cars -
But their noise is drowned out by all the rain's
Metallic noises on the awnings' planes.