Wednesday, January 25, 2023

What writing - Umbrella

What Writing, set two, day one


Folding umbrella.


except when it is windy.

Then it becomes a struggle to hold it

tight against my shoulder,

Hoping, hoping, hoping,

the wind won't catch it just right,

and invert it,

snap the cheap metal,

and make it a useless piece of trash.

The rain rarely comes straight down.

My pants legs get wet,

from the knees down,

If I'm lucky, that is all that gets wet.

Folding umbrella.

Not designed for two people.

Not designed for wind.

Not designed for longevity.

But, oh, so convenient.

Fits in my backpack,

except when it is wet.

It lives on the floor of my car,

back seat, passenger side.

Sometimes it slips under the front seat

and I think I left it somewhere.

I once thought I left it in my grocery shopping cart

and bought a replacement,

Only to find it weeks later 

when I was cleaning out the floor of my car.

There it was

under the seat,

Hidden by an empty to go cup

and the summary of an oil change.

My umbrella.

Appreciated when it works.

Cursed when it doesn't.


My purple one bit the proverbial dust.