Tuesday, August 11, 2009



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 Day

Short 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.