Paul rocked back and forth upon the porch glider.
A lap dog occupied his lap with quiet contentment
as Paul stroked her back.
Dora ignored the kitchen’s stack of dishes.
She typed new species into existence
to replace those who went extinct this year.
Paul watched the rain exit the downspout,
instead of looking through the silvery rain curtain
two arm-lengths before his face.
As the puddles rose through the grass,
he relayed his Noah’s Ark concerns through the kitchen window.
Dora knew better than to let Paul’s fantastical worries
affect her outline of new tiny creatures,
especially the one who seeks out
splintered oak bark exposed at dangling branches.
Paul watched the rain gush a river from the downspout
and its stream disturb the splash dotted puddle-mergers
that now covered all the grass in his normally well manicured yard.
Dora let the rain continue another five minutes
before flicking a kitchen light switch,
which parted the clouds for the sun to shine
in about half the time Milwaukee’s Miller Park roof opens or closes.
copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney