Earth worms in a race across
blacktop, wet with new rain,
the inner workings of their
bodies evident as they stretch out
fat and juicy just begging for the hook.
Dandelions have closed up shop, no
canary sunshine heads, no lion’s
mane with thick grains of pollen
to shine under chins or wipe
off children’s noses while smiles invade our faces.
The squeak of galoshes on the slick
pavement and the simple giggle that
rises from shallow puddles, clear and inviting,
make me think of how she might look sideways
to you, verifying rain boots are for splashing.
Molecules of water cling to the strands
of my hair, still wild and unkempt
from a morning of fitful dreams, after
awakening hours before with you on my mind
and joy spread the width of my face.
I sit inside waiting for the bus
watching umbrellas open and close,
lithe bodies jockeying for position in line, as they
report to each other the haps of the weekend.
The aroma of coffee infiltrates the room,
and I wait.
Aleathia Drehmer 2008
Published by Kendra Steiner Editions 5/08
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