The sun came out to see what it missed
Plunking water from a detached rain gutter
Plunk,
plunk-plunk,
plunk,
plunk-plunk
Kids back at the park laugh and carry on
as if the freeze was only a dream
A Mini Cooper Car club member
back at work on a rebuild in the garage,
a can of Bud Light sits on its primed hood
it too, awaits a coat of paint
Two chihuahuas yip against me from across the street
their owner grumbles at them to quiet down
Normalcy hums,
whatever that means,
zipping through neighborhood streets.
No rush hour zoom,
but slow casual zips
scope out damage you can't see
on neighborhood streets
except for tree limbs piled curbside.
Damage runs deep in burst pipes
empty grocery store shelves
people boiling water to drink.
Shovels scrape, scrape, scraaape
against concrete driveways
saws groan at broken tree limbs
trying to hang on.
The last of the slush sloshes underneath my stride
evidence of snow and ice evaporates
One side of the sidewalk looks more like a post springtime rain shower,
the opposite proves otherwise.
Back outside after a week,
grateful it wasn't worse when it was for so many others.
A dry leaf gently cartwheels in front of me
as if saying
"I've come back out to play!"
Along with the rest of us, picking up where we left off.
Your words fall on the ear with a musicality that likens itself to a magical experience of sorts. The picture set the tone. Your tenor determined the notes.
As I read your onomatopoeias with intrigue, I found myself working diligently to imagine the actual sounds you conveyed. I listened to the plunking water, and I felt the scraping shovel.
How masterfully you mingled the otherwise monotonous with the unanticipated meanderings of the merciless cold. I savored your picturesque visualization of both the humming and harrowing moments delicately captured in these stanzas.
You are an illustrious writer. Thank you so much for sharing your gift.
I was right there with you as I read this Slice. Beautifully descriptive!
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I absolutely love slices like this that transport me directly to the place and time through a poem.
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This is where you shine, Alice! I can visualize each line. So real.
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I love the rhythm of your plunks and your scraaaaapes. Thanks for this visceral poem!
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Dear Alice,
Your words fall on the ear with a musicality that likens itself to a magical experience of sorts. The picture set the tone. Your tenor determined the notes.
As I read your onomatopoeias with intrigue, I found myself working diligently to imagine the actual sounds you conveyed. I listened to the plunking water, and I felt the scraping shovel.
How masterfully you mingled the otherwise monotonous with the unanticipated meanderings of the merciless cold. I savored your picturesque visualization of both the humming and harrowing moments delicately captured in these stanzas.
You are an illustrious writer. Thank you so much for sharing your gift.
~Carla Michelle
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