Black clouds grow in the south, a sure sign of rain. Humming bees hurry homeward, sensing the change. The speaker calls to a friend: let’s leave the grain and take the broad road while our feet are dry. A few drops moisten his face and patter on his hat — the shower is coming fast. They hunt for shelter. All around, tiny creatures scurry through the grass to escape the wet. They stoop beneath an ash tree thick with ivy. The wind gets high, but the ivy will keep them dry for a while. A wren is already there in its snug bower, perfectly at ease, and it stays put even though they’ve come so near. The moment feels like a shared refuge, an instinctive understanding between humans and small animals. There’s a brisk hurry to get out of the rain, then a sudden quiet pause. A gentle kinship settles in, all of them waiting together, dry and still.
Sudden Shower — Summary
Black grows the southern sky, betokening rain, And humming hive-bees homeward hurry bye: They feel the change; so let us shun the grain, And take the broad road while our feet are dry. Ay, there some dropples moistened on my face, And pattered on my hat--tis coming nigh! Let's look about, and find a sheltering place. The little things around, like you and I, Are hurrying through the grass to shun the shower. Here stoops an ash-tree--hark! the wind gets high, But never mind; this ivy, for an hour, Rain as it may, will keep us dryly here: That little wren knows well his sheltering bower, Nor leaves his dry house though we come so near.