It's been raining since last Thursday
coating cars and roads with wet October.
The first acorn finally fell
lost its grip and slipped
from dripping branches
to its cracked-head landing
on the neighbor's porch roof.
startled me from the grey
that has washed away this week,
and I imagined hungry squirrels
in holly berry bickerings.
I envy them. Niceties are wearisome
in the onset of a winter chill.
Tagged: Poem, Poetics, Poetry, Writing