A dismal, British autumn day.
Clouds of thick November grey.
Incessant rain, here to stay.

Rush-hour traffic, noisesome rumble.
Uneven pavement, made me stumble.
English stoic: mustn't grumble.

And there he stood, a traffic cop.
Hand raised to the drivers: Stop!
Salute, you, Sir: you're the top!

An officer in hi-vis yellow.
Defying rain, a splendid fellow.
All at once, my heart was mellow.

He could not know, by standing there
How I was raised from my despair.
Despite the gloom, the day was fair.

© Stephen Craven 2025