Friday, August 8, 2014

Poetry Friday

I sat on the front porch and watched the Theater of Rain.

"I hope it doesn't last too long," I thought.
"I hope it doesn't flood the street," I thought.
"Or seep into the basement.  Or reveal the structural inadequacies of the roof," I thought.
"I hope it doesn't have a dramatic final act wherein a lightning bolt fells a tree, taking out an innocent bystander watching from her front porch," I thought.
"Perhaps I should have cleaned the gutters," I thought.
"Or gotten around to sorting those old boxes in the basement," I thought.

The Theater of Rain did not care what I thought.
"The show must go on," rumbled the sky.

Later, I thought to applaud

but never did.

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