Netting the Weather

Darkened days of it
landed clouds of it
marching on in

out on the ocean, surfers
topple with the white water foam
of it

sand is pitted with rivulets,
pulverised by it

long rain strings
unwind
with the steady drip of it

I heave into the net of it
string words together with it

the weft and the weave
of a week of wet.


Afric McGlinchey