"Fourth Caprice in Montparnasse" by TS Eliot We turn the corner of the street And again Here is a landscape grey with rain On black umbrellas, waterproofs, And dashing from the slated roofs Into a mass of mud and sand. Behind a row of blackened trees. The dripping plastered houses stand Like mendicants without regrets For unpaid debts Hand in pocket, undecided, Indifferent if derided.  Among such scattered thoughts as these We turn the corner of the street; But why are we so hard to please?xx Atticus @atticuspoetry www.atticuspoetry.com