I'll write a poem about the rain.
Some other day when the weather is less sane.
Raining down hard like a duck pond made big.
Out in our lawns, drowning flowers,
Now uprooted;
I've found Grandmother's wig.
Torn up grass from the rain's major pellets.
Leaving me holes in my front lawn.
I'll even it out later;
the dirt,
Its so uneven.
But for right now, let's rebury Grandmother's wig.