ominous clouds
warn me
that they don’t fear
my red umbrella.

It’s fiery facade
simply means that I
was being adventurous
the day I picked it out.

Though I raise it
like some powerful staff
or extension of some power
that flows to it from me,

the rain falls
and the fabric,
not the color,
protects me

and only for a short time.
For the wind moves
tossing rain pellets randomly
in unexpected directions.

Then I am soaked
due to being prepared
but not having enough
to save my lower body,

so, I run
through the puddling rain
to find immediate shelter
for me and my red umbrella

and the low, dark clouds
continue their duty
as I gaze, winded,
from this place of safety.