Us Gardeners Poem by Jessica Shek

Shards of rain slicing,
enticing me to go inside,
when I'm far from that warm place.

The wind grabs Harry from my slippery hands, Harry,
my umbrella whose broken at the tip.
Oh, not him, wind!
Why did you choose him to take? !

I should just keep walking,
my shoes have gotten themselves flooded,
drowning my toes, they yelp for help,
awkward, and uncomfortable, and cold.

A wave of puddle, suddenly upon me,
from the rich guy blasting top hits, driving,
'round a corner where he can't see my sodden self.
But I'm no wetter than before.

Home, sweet home, is sweeter than this.
The whip cracks and I bite my tongue, the blood,
leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
As the thunder's hungry stomach rumbles.

Lightning touches a house, far far away.
Somewhere unfortunate, the rain tries it's best
to lull the flames to sleep.
And men will soon come to douse it.

And then it hits me hard,
while I open the front door,
entering my warm dry shack.
And I realize that today was the day.
today was Plant Watering Day.

So I take a glass of water,
and I offer mine a drink.
like the hospitable host I am.
And He does the same to His,
like the hospitable host He is.

so now they ought-ta stay awhile.