Too Much of a Good Thing

Four damned days of thunderstorms
Have brought down even farmers here
In Rita's for their ham and eggs. Nobody
Speaks to break the gloom. Some guy
Who's lost his girl sings, but, otherwise,
There is no sound, except of fork tines
Hitting plates. I look as Derek lifts
His head. He says aloud what we're
All thinking. "I know that we need
The rain, but, gee, I miss the sun."
We file out at half past nine to
Pickup trucks which sit in puddles,
Stand and stare up at the sky;
Another rumble. Damn.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 11 times
Written on 2012-04-16 at 17:28

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text