(Poem 33 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Soft rain the show we are watching through
open door, curtain tucked into the waist of
stacked trunks standing guard at least for a
century. How many rains have they seen?
Many more than the cats and dogs staring
with wonder at the wet world; even more
than me with my half-century life spent on
not watching enough rain in the past, so I must
make up for it by analyzing every drop.
@Home Studio – 33rd poem of the year
Runner ups for the rain, animals, trunk photos to accompany my poem:
rebekahjmarshall 