November Morning

  
     Fifty degrees and an easterly breeze
       Dances through branches bare
      A sprinkling of sun
     When a break in the clouds 
      Brightens the "drismal" air.

     Into puddles go commuters' tires
       They swish on the slippery street
      Adorning pedestrians
     With mud-colored coats
      And making them look quite neat.

     Theirs is a polka-dot wet-look
       Matching November skies
      Soon they'll be splattered
     With sunshine
      To everyone's happy suprise.


     Note: Georgetown Weekly, November, 1981