First Line Poems

“September rain falls on the house”
Cloaking the grey shingles in a damp, misty shroud, camouflaging it to match the fog.
The rain leaves muddy footprints, and
a petulant umbrella dripping in the hall
after
a mad rush inside when the storm
removed its cloud mask and showed its face.
With the sheets of rain
pouring down,
the creek outside the house
swellsto twice its normal size,
gallons of foaming iced tea,
it rushes, devouring everything in sight
with its onslaught, drowning rocks, sweeping leaves and making the bank a sheath of mud.
Slickers and glossy boots areretrieved from the closet,
transformed from warm and dry
to sodden in an instant.
The gutter shadowing the house’s roofline
spits water in an uncontrollable rush,
washing away dregs of dirt, mulch and leaves,
a muddy yet cleansing stream.