The road is wet and slippery.
Each hour bring us closer to a flood.
The forecast says the storms might end tonight.
I’m at my destination now.
I get out and spread an umbrella.
I step into a puddle and splash.
My wet ankles are tired of it all.
I’ll retire early tonight.
W. Wayne B.
New poetry book: Eyes of Hope
Follow me on Twitter: @williamwayneb