Night before ran started,
Six am still sing,
Flag cane and I went out on deck last night to retrieve,
Cane hates ice or wet,
Cans needed yo get to curb by six am,
Rising at five thirty,
Wind breaker on,
In shoes with cane in hand went I,
Kitties watching,
Mr.Black like my dad screaming,
‘I’m hungry!’
In Iowa its law trailers can not attach to porch,
I also have no gutters,
Thats on top five I need to fix when money I have,
Cold icy rain slid from my collar,
Down my spine between my butt checks,
Talk about frigid!
Across porch I zoomed,
The water zipped over the edge of the porch dropping in plops upon the steps,
Backwards down the steps to my car,
Not one droplet missed me,
Icy cold,
Wet through and through,
Got in slide into sweat,
Ignited the engine,
Pulled forward,
Out I stepped into Quasqueton’s Monsoon,
Moved both barrel,
It takes a month to fill each,
I recycle all I can including organic,
Back in my black chevy to the post office box,
Got my tag bill due Sept first,
Three months early just like the stores and the christians christmas,
The store still have the churches fake Santas ringing their bells,
Playing hip hop music,
I often wonder why in a country so few christians,
Still a federal holiday in a country that church and state is suppose to be separate,
No religious music,
I use to love christmas when I had a family,
Our home was illuminated by my moms love and belief,
Until her daughter the narcississ murder mom and my babysister,
One last drop,
Birds were playing in rain puddles,
I put paper trash in on recycle,Parked car,
Dished wet cloths plays some hearts fell asleep.
Val's Whitewolf Books 