Passing Clouds

by grimbeau

Approaching Four:

 

Darkening December Afternoon.

 

Radio and slippers on.

 

No pipe, or Drum,

 

or wattle daub.

 

No dread tattoo.

 

 

 

Still too early for the Angelus bell

 

– no one sounds one round here anyway –

 

not that I’ve heard.

 

Never saw one neither.

 

Leafy swell yesterday,

 

clear night so far,

 

foggy dew unlikely.

 

 

 

The Angelus (1857-1859) by Jean-François Millet.