Morning rain
One ear, uncovered, receives the echos that have filtered through...
the wet, colonial blue siding,
the window of double pane strength,
the lowly flowered curtain.
Silent, miniature water bombs explode onto the cedar plank deck.
Pure h2o droplets splash into the still uncovered above ground pool.
Streams of liquid life pour off the roof and waterfall onto river rock.
My bedroom is alive with the vibrato of natures great gift of rain.
Can't think, must act without stopping to ponder the options.
Down the stairs, using the glow from my cell phone to light each step.
Labrador following, ready for food, cat clawing the table post, stretching herself awake.
I lumber to the mudroom after a pitstop, thankful for a fresh set of togs.
It's fall, and cold mornings are made even less pleasant by the late arrival of the sunrise.
As I finish getting ready, the light from a single room leaks into the now quiet kitchen.
I see by the clock more time has slipped by than I had planned.
I will trade back the minutes by eating breakfast at work today.
The cold air hits me first, with hints of suburbia tossed into the wind.
Rain soaked lawn, pollen being blasted off the leaves, oil from the roads.
The morning mixture fills my nostrils, the cold air puffs into my eyes.
I am filled with freshness, ready for my run.
The rain applauds as I step away from the porch and head down the street.
the wet, colonial blue siding,
the window of double pane strength,
the lowly flowered curtain.
Silent, miniature water bombs explode onto the cedar plank deck.
Pure h2o droplets splash into the still uncovered above ground pool.
Streams of liquid life pour off the roof and waterfall onto river rock.
My bedroom is alive with the vibrato of natures great gift of rain.
Can't think, must act without stopping to ponder the options.
Down the stairs, using the glow from my cell phone to light each step.
Labrador following, ready for food, cat clawing the table post, stretching herself awake.
I lumber to the mudroom after a pitstop, thankful for a fresh set of togs.
It's fall, and cold mornings are made even less pleasant by the late arrival of the sunrise.
As I finish getting ready, the light from a single room leaks into the now quiet kitchen.
I see by the clock more time has slipped by than I had planned.
I will trade back the minutes by eating breakfast at work today.
The cold air hits me first, with hints of suburbia tossed into the wind.
Rain soaked lawn, pollen being blasted off the leaves, oil from the roads.
The morning mixture fills my nostrils, the cold air puffs into my eyes.
I am filled with freshness, ready for my run.
The rain applauds as I step away from the porch and head down the street.
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