Drip-drip-drip, rain slides off the sheet-iron roof,
Plink-plink-plinks onto the wayward tin can
Placed by wily storms or fickle wind’s goof,
Who can rightly say, be it beast or man?
The rain cares not where the gentle drips fall,
Nor gives a thought as the plinks softly sing
To small ears listening behind safe walls,
Lulled to sleep by the drip-drip and plink-plink.
Silently they creep on tiny wet feet
Beneath a cracked pane of misted raised glass.
Aqueous drips and plinks, seldom they meet
Those to whom they sing at two AM past.
Plinks slowly lessen, lightly tread away,
Follow the drips as night steps into day.
©2021 KT Workman
(Note: A Shakespearean (English) sonnet consists of 14 lines written in iambic pentameter, and usually has 10 syllables per line. It has three quatrains and a couplet. Rhyme scheme: a-b-a-b, c-d-c-d, e-f-e-f, g-g.)
Image by StockSnap from Pixabay