This little poem was written while on a Typical Morning Walk with the Honorable Sir Colt, a Dog. I dedicate these humble verses to him- may every walk we enjoy be so fine as this one was.
At rain’s end we tumble out the door, One of us on two feet, the other on four. Out, out, into the post-Deluge morn, To explore a wet world so newly reborn.
Moss festooning trees in a thousand shades of green, While the bark of their trunks takes on a richer, darker sheen. Dewdrops garnish bare branches like wreathes of pearls, Whilst birds chatter in the canopies like a bevy of schoolgirls.
This Noachian world leaves one’s senses as innocent as Eve’s, Inhale- the thick scent of rain on a litter of leaves. Listen now- hear the blanket-fold flutter, Of a hundred starling wings!
The fog clears away like breath from a screen, Leaving behind air fresh and damp and stormcleaned. A cool breeze soughs through waterlogged pine boughs, Like used up rags they are wrung of their overnight douse.
The slick asphalt and ephemeral puddles dry before our very eyes, Casting back our reflections into the still-clouded sky. Prints left behind in the mud, both shoe and paw, Away from passing cars, onto the soaked grass we safely withdraw.
The puddles beckon to us like portals, Enticing us to splash and frolic, the delight of all things mortal. Sudden tug on the leash- whoa-owww! A brave squirrel darts abreast and taunts my poor hound!
Oh, there goes another drop upon my hat, How long until the trees lose all their rainwater-fat? No- wait! This wet comes from the blue! Run, take cover! The rain’s begun anew!