Saturday, January 22, 2011

The Leaky Roof




The 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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