Poetry: Three Freshman And A Puddle

Three Freshman And A Puddle
 
 
Three freshman played in a puddle
during a thunderstorm. Surfing
across its two-inch depth
like it was 50-feet deep.
The skies were dark, the tornado
sirens stood at the ready, a watch in effect
and warnings recently expired, and lightning
still occasionally dancing through the sky.
 
Yet there they were. No regard
for safety, or perhaps ignorant
the way youth are, or the way stubborn
adults are, or the way the night
is of its own, finite duration.
Like the night, they savored
the moment, the fresh energy of the air,
the joy of warm rain.
Advertisements

Have a thought? Leave a comment!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s