View from the bus

monday poem 3

I stand under the bus shelter and watch the seagulls soar across the gray sky, immune to the rain. I get on my bus begin to hum a tune It IS Monday morning I AM in a rainstorm I AM truly grateful for the beauty of this world. It’s almost a hymn. I’m not disappointed. The bus rushes up Page Mill Road against the rain that batters its windshield ineffectually.