Streetlight, Rain

(American sentences)

Streetlight, rain, a rain-blurred moon in a black sky – my Autumn neighbourhood.

After the big April floods bumpy road surfaces muddy edges.

Flood-ruined possessions line the streets, piled as high as the water was.

Climate change summer too hot too wet: garden of weeds and mosquitos.

After a few days the rain stops; after a few more the cat ventures out.

A branch from the bush with red flowers juts across the path: pruning time.

Music piercing walls and scaling fences: schoolboy neighbour's recorder.

Shrieking cockatoos fly over at twilight, urging each other home.

When shops and businesses shut for the night, it’s already sunset.

Summer over, I wear pyjamas to bed; the cat snuggles closer.

Day 16 of April Poetry Month at 'imaginary garden with real toads' is Micro Poetry ~ Streetlight Rain in which we are invited to write poem of 10 lines or less, or to try the American Sentences invented by Allen Ginsberg as a Western kind of haiku, or to focus on the theme 'Streetlight, Rain'. So I thought I'd try the lot! If my 10 separate American sentences don't exactly constitute one poem, they at least have a common subject, all being descriptive of this time of year where I live.