A Certain Saturday Morn
***A childhood experience where I
recall my friends and I playing in
the rain, but we became sad when
the rain lifted***
The rain patterned dull, side the sill
to remind the chill to rise 'neath
the leaves;
to station the birds in their nests
(the squirrels cozy in terrace boughs)
watching the rain-drop and fall
in whetted breath
a certain Saturday morn
There were pools of freshet dream-water
spills, rubber boots filled
with little ones of all kinds
(aloof though children still)
celebrating somehow, the challenge
of new troubles;
skipping with Autumn's feet,
through mud and October's puddles
they danced, as dullards to the rain
The rain had passed, sun came at last
yet, now the once smiling children
shook the warmth, off came boot and
coat ----
and went on their merry way,
sopping, dry and sad
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