Drenched

It has been raining all day and not just a drizzle either. It rained and blew and rained, rained, rained. Needless to say, Dusty and I walked in a mall (ugh) instead of on a trail, then we went to her house so I could troll through her old purses, sort through a box of hand-me-down paperback thrillers, and we could check out a couple of geocaches we'd like to find IF THE WEATHER EVER COOPERATES. Sorry, didn't mean to holler but I'm just the teeniest bit tired of the crap weather this spring.

April 25--Georges Seurat, Aman-Jean.

His concentration is total,
he leans toward his work
crayon in hand.
The room is cold.
He's pulled his collar up,
wrapped a scarf around his neck,
yet his hand is steady.
I bring wine, bread,
firewood.
Degas brings cheese
and a ballerina.
We wonder which
will keep him warmer.
~~~~~

I heard the timer buzz. I think that means the Honey Soy Salmon is done. Bye!
--Barbara