Donna
Autorin
The sun has disappeared behind clouds.
Fat raindrops pelt from above.
Rain is rushing.
Within the hours the terrain is flooded.
Shoes, socks, pant legs are muddied.
Darting between the slight break, only to be caught in a torrential cascade.
A foolish umbrella holds nothing back.
Wind tugging at it, drenching me vertically.
An electric vein zig zags down near where I walk.
Actually am racing for shelter.
Halfway home, jumping over rivers that use to be streets.
Sidewalks are slip and slides.
Windshield wipers moving furiously; futile visibility which prompts a lone driver to stop--in the middle of the road.
No one's around anyway.
Most were smart enough to stay put today.
Heeding the forecast of severe thunderstorms and flood warnings.
Soaked, dripping, I arrive.
Weighted, water-logged.
Toss everything into the wash.
Then, in the industrial-sized dryer.
Watch as the clothes tumble round and round.
Change my outfit then, a second time.
Warmth from the freshly dried textiles soothes my chilled trembling.
A perfumed scent lifting into my nose from fabric softener sheets used.
Gone is the damp sensation.
Except for my running shoes.
Which took overnight to finally rid of all the water.
A stuffing and re-stuffing of old newspaper strips to absorb excess liquid.
Inky traces left behind, like the murky trail of a squid.
©Donna H.
May 15, 2013
Anhang anzeigen Record (online-voice-recorder.com) (2).mp3
Fat raindrops pelt from above.
Rain is rushing.
Within the hours the terrain is flooded.
Shoes, socks, pant legs are muddied.
Darting between the slight break, only to be caught in a torrential cascade.
A foolish umbrella holds nothing back.
Wind tugging at it, drenching me vertically.
An electric vein zig zags down near where I walk.
Actually am racing for shelter.
Halfway home, jumping over rivers that use to be streets.
Sidewalks are slip and slides.
Windshield wipers moving furiously; futile visibility which prompts a lone driver to stop--in the middle of the road.
No one's around anyway.
Most were smart enough to stay put today.
Heeding the forecast of severe thunderstorms and flood warnings.
Soaked, dripping, I arrive.
Weighted, water-logged.
Toss everything into the wash.
Then, in the industrial-sized dryer.
Watch as the clothes tumble round and round.
Change my outfit then, a second time.
Warmth from the freshly dried textiles soothes my chilled trembling.
A perfumed scent lifting into my nose from fabric softener sheets used.
Gone is the damp sensation.
Except for my running shoes.
Which took overnight to finally rid of all the water.
A stuffing and re-stuffing of old newspaper strips to absorb excess liquid.
Inky traces left behind, like the murky trail of a squid.
©Donna H.
May 15, 2013
Anhang anzeigen Record (online-voice-recorder.com) (2).mp3