Rain today. All day. Drenching rain with thunder, giving the truth to a metaphor: sheets of rain.
A day inside. A camera cased, batteries charging and charged. Work and reading, the book disappointing like the rain, bleak and boring. The cat sleeping, still sleeping -- through the day, uncomplaining, unlike me. I'd rather be outside, but one brief errand showed me why I shouldn't be, couldn't be. So, I searched for something to relieve the rain and happily found this:
March
by Richard Kenney
Sky a shook poncho.
Roof wrung. Mind a luna moth
Caught in a banjo.
This weather’s witty
Peek-a-boo. A study in
Insincerity.
Blues! Blooms! The yodel
Of the chimney in night wind.
That flat daffodil.
With absurd hauteur
New tulips dab their shadows
In water-mutter.
Boys are such oxen.
Girls! — sepal-shudder, shadow-
Waver. Equinox.
Plums on the Quad did
Blossom all at once, taking
Down the power grid.
(Tomorrow: a prediction of sun and Tulip Magnolia blossoms.)
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