2.5.2015

the crocuses have awoken, a defiant yellow flare against the bricks

and my shoes have grown fonder this year of puddles than I might wish

so much so, that my toes have pruned by the end of the day

yet I am reluctant to cast them off –

who am I to come between lovers in the spring?

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squelchy Monday

today I would trade my squelchy shoes
and sodden self for warm dogs
and ticking radiators, steaming mugs
of freshly brewed, nearly obscenely
creamed coffee – there’s even, I think,
a donut on the kitchen counter
with my name on it saying stay in!

but instead it’s frizzled hair,
unending responsibilities, and rain
that managed to drip everywhere

© Sarah Whiteley

Squelchy Mondays are the worst.

Monday morning, 6 AM

the geese came early
this morning, and loudly

already it was too gray a day
for the sun to make an appearance

the dogs, fractious still from being
pulled out into the dark and rain

growled up at the windows long after
the clattery troupe had passed

and moments later the rain
let loose and I with my umbrella

crept out the back door
into another day

© Sarah Whiteley