british empire

for a.s.

The rain slid down from humid skies,
and fell in graying drone
Rapping on the garden walk
And chilling through his bones.

He shoveled all the walkways clean
And piled all the rain
In heaps, along the garden paths,
Ignoring how it drained–

He pulled his thick wool jacket off
And laid it by his fire
He stoked it high for winter cold
To melt through August’s mire.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *