Through everyday trials, we continue.
The Downpour —-revised
Water trickles down my nose
and gathers at the tip.
My head a bowl of matted hair,
a birds nest on my head.
My shoes are now a soggy mess
of leather, dye, and tangled laces
I plod like a rhinoceros across
the muddy field.
A flicker of self consciousness
darts through my mind
then vanishes.
Grace and vanity be damned.
I plod a little faster.
Poetry by Hans Bump
Read 457 times
Written on 2021-04-10 at 18:40
Tags Whimsical  Rain  Fun 
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