Rain, Rain

It's one of those tediously
dusk-dark days, courtesy of
petulant nature in one of her
sporadically bad tempers
moodily bleak, calling on
her elements to share her misery
in endless rain, a low ceiling
of bruised cloud hovering
stubbornly over our
drenched landscape. Too
sodden to enjoy the outside
we too stare sullenly out of
streaming windows, resentful
of the waste of an otherwise
perfectly good summer day.
Even our little dogs, pampered
by the expectation that this day
like the preceding ones will
be warm, bright and dry
the better to cavort around
the gardens, scamper and hide
when we bid them outside.
The garden, though thrives,
flowering vines speedily
sending their tendrils to coil
about supports, roses happy
enough to bloom exuberantly
iridescent pools of rain
gleaming on the foliage of
plantain lilies -- only the large
and luscious heads of peonies
splendid in colour and layered
form burdened by the weight
of the rain, hang forlornly
even while their divine fragrance
competes with the perfumed
essence of the lilacs and perkily 
cheeky lilies-of-the-valley.