Celtic Spring Poem by Michael Pruchnicki

The rains came as they do in March
and April. Rubbish and debris float
in the flooded gutters, autumn's leaves
and winter's residue sailing along
toward sewers, leaving an ochre
and charcoal rime of frost on sidewalks
and pavements

Buses splash through puddles, splattering
pedestrians with wet filth and sewage

Old men in gray checkered caps mutter
as they hobble toward the darkened saloons
hoping for a celtic sunrise and a wee drop
to get through another pewter day!