Out of a mackerel sky a shower of fishes,
surprise in their phosphorescent eyes.
We gathered them in frying pans, gave thanks
and sang round barbecues that night.
Next day the rice arrived, pattering
a storm of applause on our tin roofs.
We swept up the grains that stung our backs
and stored the sacks in barns
and prayed instead for rain.
This fragment I wrote yesterday. It's a response to the news that the Saharan sand storm (that has made the weather over Britain so uncomfortable for many of us in the last week brings) food and life to a species of plankton in the Mediterranean sea. I also remembered reading about a shower of fish over the south coast of England and other strange showers from the sky.