crisp

Just stepped out the side door
for a moment:
damn near wiped out;
not the footing —
hell, I’m agile as a cat
when it comes to that —
no, it was the friggin’ wind:
swirled in under the car port
like a plow on steroids
and damn near upsided me:
me with a gooey bag
of kitchen garbage
in my dainty paws.
Picture that.

No warning:
I’d looked out the kitchen window
before venturing out in short sleeves;
the sun was smiling,
the snow was sparkling
like an American Senator’s teeth
just as you’re signing
the deal that broke the bank
and set him up for life.

Like the window was lying.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wordcurrents/ Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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