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.