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