Rain Heavy on the Windows

Rain, heavy on the windows,
weighs down new leaves,
bends heads of dandelions,
runs in rivulets through young grass,
distorts your reflected face
and obscures the yard beyond.

The very air is weighted
with moisture.
No sky. No blue.
Only grey and wet.

The cat sits on the sofa back
staring out the glass.
The dog, leash in mouth,
gazes at the gloom.
You, in dressing gown, coffee in hand,
pull the knitted throw to your chin.

There will be no walkies today,
no taking the air.
There will be only cocooning
until the rain is past.