Rain, and an unwalked dog
get the fedora from the top shelf
pull on the brown leather jacket
wind blows cold wet onto the back of my neck.
The creek is up. The street is a creek.
In barren plane tree branches, six crows
face windward, shudder, complain.
Chorus frogs sing late in the wet morning.
Songs borne by the wind, which shifts
crows in one ear, frogs in the other
and I laugh. I cannot write this today
without being suspected of pandering.
“a fedora in the rain?” ABSOLUTELY! A fedora in the sleet and snow sometimes too. The weather here in upstate NY has been wet, wild and lovely (if you can get out of it and you have a full belly) the last couple days…But my good four-legged friend still wants that run.
The one I wore today is felt, and faded from years of rain and desert sun and and sweat and occasional snow.
You write that you are a cynic, but when I read some of your writing, such as “Going With It Anyway”, it reflects your joy and appreciation for the delicate, the quiet, and the beautiful in life. Seems like “cynic” is too harsh a word for the Creek Running North man.