Boy Running In the Rain

His face swinging from ear to ear A bemused smile lighting up His gander gait Under the burlap mop Who’s looking at me Why is everyone looking at my legs His mother telling him to be back this summer Before the green peacocks turn to blue Droplets big as his nightshade eyes bursting at each swan step Boy on an errand The stealthy guilt-ridden leaves of the linden Motionless in the sudden metallic green flood Boy still running in the rain How old am I As old as the linden when it was eight Where are the caterwauling magpies this day None to mock me in my gait He thinks he’s running in the still hot rain But the cars and trucks along the road shower In their mindless manic main Wait till you see my master drive me proud Over the bridges under high-volting cables My throat loosening up in coughs and curses The mud drained from my tired gables Boy still keeps running in the rain When will the summer end When the cotton sky turns to lead Or when the boy stops running in the rain © T. Wignesan July 15, 2011 - Paris (First appeared in Alongstoryshort site on August 4, 2011.)