Dark Grey shadows of the sky,
the clouds seem to silently move,
becoming darker and darker,
till hell will break loose,
and when it does- they will pour,
with a vigour so vigorous,
it will prove its Englishness.
Chilly and cold wind,
leaves rustling and rubbing against the stony floor,
making 'that' sound,
maybe autumn beckons..
Here I am, south of England,
eating sausages and baked beans,
admiring the country side,
sitting on a wooden bench,
Oh meadows so beautiful,
oh gorgeous doe- eyes,
but today you are overshadowed,
with the dark grey clouds,
it's like it brings forth a message,
the message of rain- heavy rain..
Did the English weather drink a lot of beer?
Nature pees....
