Wet Day

Rain sweeps in as the gale begins to blow,
The water is glaucous-green and mauve and grey.
A pelican takes refuge on the bay;
Snow-white and black it rides the complex flow.
A child stands in a yellow mackintosh.
Gulls lift away and circle round about.
Cans, bottles, and junk appear as the tide runs out.
Wind cannot sweep away nor water wash
The dreck of our vulgarity. I think
The world has never been redeemed; at least
The marks it bears are mostly of the Beast—
The broken trust, the litter, and the stink.