Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Bad weather, bad poetry

It's the season for wet, dragging hems.

Sleeping, the sound of rain.
Waiting, wondering whether to dress for rain.
Walking, to school, through puddles.
Home. Damp ankles.

1 comment:

the Boy said...

I like this one very much. The line about "Damp ankles." stirs many memories.