Today is Poem In Your Pocket Day.  Today I am NOT going out to share the contents of my pocket.  In fact, the pants I am wearing right now have no pocket. What to do? What to do?

My virtual pocket to the rescue, here is the poem I’d put in my pocket, if I had a pocket.


Six Degrees From Rain To Rainbow

The rain left a puddle by the porch.
A dog drank from the puddle,
then watered a bush—

leg high.  Drained, the dog left, ran
to the corner store, where a man
carried a jug of juice—

mostly water.  The dog frightened
the man, and he dropped the jug,
spilling the juice.

April has its meaning in water—
in the showers that fall
in anticipation, in the colors that

make for us a rainbow in the puddles
of life. Orange water in the sun.
Spectrum glowing in the puddle.

Rain, dog, man, juice, sun, and rainbow.
See, it’s only six degrees from rain to rainbow.


Comments are welcome.   It’s a work in progress.