16 Apr

Slap. Slap. Slap.

The soaked denim of my jeans collide with my bare feet on the concrete.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

Realizing my eyes have been on the ground too long, I tilt my head back.

Plit, plit, plit.

The raindrops smack against my glasses, refreshingly dripping down my face as I walk.


The breeze fingers my cheek playfully.

I look down at the tiny worms on the sidewalk struggling in vain, escaping the flood of their homes only to encounter the harsh sun and birds to come. 

Poor creatures.  To have such an existence.

I have a few minutes until I have to be at work down the street.

I smile and decide to toss my inhibitions aside.

Puddles. Plus me jumping.  Plus carefree laughter.

No one watched me–I would not have cared if someone had.

Jeans heavy, soaked half-way up the shin.  Flip flops in hand.

Thus I arrived at work. 

I love my boss.  She doesn’t care about employees getting wet.

I love rainy days.  I have found that spring rains smell different than fall rains.

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Posted by on April 16, 2010 in Poetry


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