Half a mile beyond the village

summer rain leaps out. 

 

It hurls down buckets full

of noise; and breathless

 

laughter chases them

along the disused railway track

 

the only movement

in the landscape

 

other than the teeming rain.

Even the sea holds still

 

while they beat on.

Wet sandals on the sleepers

 

find a rhythm;

licks of hair drip down. 

 

The taste of rain

is everything to come.