Welcome to crappy poetry lunch hour:

I awoke this morning, to a storm quite dreary

Rain and wind and cold there were a plenty.

My home was warm as was the office, but the space between filled with rain and wind.

I thought of the bus, somewhere I could sit and read a book comfortably within.

Umbrella overhead, I pushed out to the stop.

Then the bus pulled up, passengers bursting out the top.

I saw the stinky and sweaty san franciscans all piled high in the wheeled box,

I lifted my hands to the heavens and felt the cool raindrops.

Back to the garage, out came the slicker,

Tires and basket and rear facing fender.

From head to toe I was covered in gear,

keeping out the wet, the warm in here.

Off I strode through the city a mess,

everyone with faces bundled and wind blown dress.

I was invincible, a tower of comfort, cool rain running down my walls

I observe the cold, the soaked cotton garb, listen to their wailing calls.

My observatory is pleasant in this city upset,

Of missing the bus I have no regret.

Take heed good scholars and buy some duds

That can keep out the rain, let you dry your buds.

I don’t know what that last line means to say

But I do know I’ve written a poem at lunchtime today.

dc