Overcast

A mother overhead,
bearing down
with beacon eyes -
my feet
on her beat.

The park -
overcast.

Hear the beat
of robin feet
on the muddy lawn.

Stranger in park -
no bark of dog
nor scampering squirrel.

Flood
like a murky lake -
the sodden path
is alive 

with my steady
sneakered tromp
   and the allocation 
of worms.

2/27/2022
Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

Poem

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Krutsinger Avatar
March 3, 2022 at 10:47 AM
I loved the ending "the allocation of worms." It brought realism in.
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