A Walk Home

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.
Beatific.

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.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s