One small day condensed to the patter of rain on a hood –
and you toddling along.
A still puddle, anticipating the stomp.
A wellington poised, pink and gleaming –
to ignite a watery explosion.
Horses in the field huddle, heads bowed,
their manes flowing.
They watch as we plough on,
pure drips trickling down our faces.
You look up, suddenly, smiling.
The droplets kiss your sweet face,
the rain blessed to share this moment with you.
Previously appeared on Cultured Vultures as part of their Poetry Spotlight.