Downtown

The storm blew in during the night.
Leaving morning cold and bright.
Wet leaves and berries in the sun.
A park full of pewter cars [Thanks Alison!]
And in the distance a city of light.

On the tee, an iron bell
Summons jocks to hit and tell.
Fairways damp and boggy.
Sandtraps hard and soggy.
The all pervading leafy smell.

Down the hill to wasps in flowers
and butterflies in final hours.
Wood full of tiny flies to swallow.
Old oak tree sounding dead and hollow,
Whilst overhead the rain cloud glowers.