A recent morning seemed to start off with a bit of fog ... most of my mornings seem to start that way, even when the sun is shining brightly ... so it was no surprise when ... I woke up ... late, thirsty ... thinking foggily of clouds, rain, roofs, leaky roofs ... and this poem came to mind:
THE LEAKY ROOF
We knew just where
to put pots and pans
when the rain came
suddenly weeping
through our roof,
its pit, pat, pit-pat
lullaby lingering
long after the storm
had droned off into
distant, grumbling
thunder, leaving
a morning residue
of splatters
and puddles,
blankets on a line,
featherbed sprawled
like a newborn calf
broadside of the sun.
© 2001
(received an honorable mention award in Ohio Poetry Day competition; subsequently published in my first collection, Chance of Rain ... Finishing Line Press, 2003)
Today's word: grumbling
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