A Walk in the Rain
After a warm rain the grass
stretches to the horizon
to meet the infinite sky.
The gardens are as colorful
as an Oriental carpet,
I enjoy it while I can.
Storm clouds loom,
and clouds become boulders,
as the sky shakes with thunder.
I can no longer ignore it.
With eyes on my feet,
I avoid a muddy weed bed,
But the leaves hanging
from drooping branches,
are falling on my hatless head.
The moral is simple:
I should have stayed in bed.
George Freek's poetry has appeared in numerous journals and reviews. His poem "Night Thoughts" was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize.
After a warm rain the grass
stretches to the horizon
to meet the infinite sky.
The gardens are as colorful
as an Oriental carpet,
I enjoy it while I can.
Storm clouds loom,
and clouds become boulders,
as the sky shakes with thunder.
I can no longer ignore it.
With eyes on my feet,
I avoid a muddy weed bed,
But the leaves hanging
from drooping branches,
are falling on my hatless head.
The moral is simple:
I should have stayed in bed.
George Freek's poetry has appeared in numerous journals and reviews. His poem "Night Thoughts" was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize.
