it’s raining again and I primadonna
can smell the neighbors barbecue next door, to
step outside and invite myself over would be wrong, another
day, perhaps. The scene of red meat floods
out onto the lawn, through sheets of downfalling illuminating
water. I can spoil even this early morning storm—exploration
of this day, I am so tired of being a human barometer, versus
all the things I once was. Heads pounds as clouds, too,
collapse, released joints sigh in relief as another
clap of thunder lets loose more pressure.
The first drops fall, illuminating
the birds chirping crazy outside, exploring
fresh mud for worms and beetles, singing of the glory of sunshine versus
this rain, and now I, she is loosing inside me, that hungry primadonna.
Holly DayShort bio: Holly Day is a travel writing instructor living in Minneapolis, Minnesota, with her husband and two children. Her most recent nonfiction books are Music Theory for Dummies, Music Composition for Dummies, and Walking Twin Cities.