picking in the pouring rain
there was a break in the storm
and the blueberries needed picking
naturally, the clouds broke open again
halfway through
we completed our task soaked to the bone and laughing
remembering the childhood joy of playing in a warm June shower
while the dog zoomed around the yard
chasing rabbits and raindrops
One thought on "picking in the pouring rain"
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gobs of warmth in this poem