Walking the Dog on a Rainy Monday Morning on the first Day of Summer 1999

The weekend kind of strange:
Saturday went by like a series of dreams
Out of which the family members
Emerged at different times
To drink a glass of milk
Or stand in front of the fridge
Before going back
To separate worlds
Where nobody ever
Is hungry or sad

Sunday we drove around
The kids noisy
In the back of the car
And only the dog
Quiet and happy to be
On the move

The sun was shining
The bikers and cyclists swarming
And we never seemed
To arrive

There is so little we can do
you said. And I wondered if we
Had been thinking about the same things

Tonight the rain set in
Soon after midnight
And kept on pounding on the roof
Under which we were trying to sleep
Until it was time to get up

After the kids had left
I walked the dog
With the rain still falling
Wondering why
My umbrella felt light as a feather

I thought of Saturday
The dreams and bits
And of Sunday with
the noise in the car
and your words
taking off from the trees
like the last birds of spring

When I came out of the woods
I closed my umbrella
And the rain stopped.

(June 21, 1999)

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