Rain on the Conservatory Roof First it rains, then it stops, then it rains again. The blackbird hops on the lawn with its keen eye, looking to be fed. The wind chimes chime by the door, the clocks tick in the clock-emptied house and though the furniture’s gone, its ghosts are here: the drawers still full of her things, the bed with the … Continue reading Three poems by Cliff Yates