Before The Onslaught Poem by Martin Mc Carthy

It's a squally September morning
and on the pavement outside my window
a blonde woman and a blonde girl -
presumably her daughter - are strolling
steadily towards the schoolhouse.

Both are dressed in pink,
and the girl has a matching satchel
bearing the image of My Little Pony,
which explains to some degree
her own neat ponytail.

At the corner, near the traffic lights,
there's a shop with a sheltering canopy,
and they stop there, for the mother
to button the girl's small jacket
against a slowly gathering onslaught.

Yet neither seems to be in a hurry
to hurry into the rain,
or into the rest of their lives -
where, already, a small scattering of cherry leaves
lies trampled in a nearby puddle.