Soft, persistant rain all day so I climbed the stairs to think about 'a mere projection of the glow within' (MSE, 1969) and found a miniature barometer on the wall.
Rain From The West
The rain that bows the flowering grasses,
Leaving a crystal on each bending blade,
Has stroked for milesthe sea's grey ridges
And dints the shore-pools with its speckled shade.
Who knows what flowers and seeds of summer
May rise from this far-carried alien rain -
Which drops may nourish them and which, drawn skyward,
Will, wind-impelled, drive on to fall again.
Out of the west it comes, but to me...
It seems a local rain, meant for these grasses -
For me, whose sun its cloud can never spoil.
Mary Stella Edwards (1963)