Rainy Sundays

O! To have one of those rainy Sundays
Where the remote finds itself in my hand,
And my mind seeks comfort in a deep haze
Because nothing for me, anyone planned.
I may have to wander to the kitchen
To satisfy my grumbling stomach
With a bowl full of quick junk food fixin’s,
And a cold beverage I had to make.
Sometimes I will look outside the window
At the dark cloud threatening to drop rain,
And since I have no place I need to go,
I do not need to bother to complain.
I will nestle further into my chair
To spend all this day not giving a care.

Another Rainy Day

Sometimes the land turns into a puddle
That we must stomp our thick rubber boots through.
A whisper from our rain-slicker’s cuddle
Keeps us dry from the water the clouds drew
From the wintry coast right down the street.
I can watch the drips coming from my hood,
Making a waterfall down to my feet
That is the start of the path through the wood.
At this downpour, the trees don’t give shelter,
And we will eventually get soaked.
We will live according to the letter
As to what God considered having joked.
They predict the sun will break through the cloud,
But for now, it is the rain that is proud.

Getting Wet

What harm can come from walking in the rain?
Most folks I know would rather stay inside
As if getting wet causes severe pain,
Holding on to the safety of their pride.
I enjoy the world without company,
Pretending I own all the puddled streets.
I think it funny, they need it sunny
As my footsteps complete the splashing beats.
An umbrella will provide no shelter
As I walk on such a beautiful day,
For it washes away all the clutter
Of what it means to experience play.
So let the clouds continue with their tears,
For the city is mine until it clears.