Winter Rain

Clouds from a Plane

The rain pitters away on their window.
Swirling. Clutching. Salivating.
The rain patters down our roof.
I drop a drip of spit on to the carpet.
A small pool of forms.
I dip my big toe in.
My sock sticks out its tongue.
Laps up the moisture.
Saturated, I become uncomfortable.
Pulling. Grabbing. Ripping.
My sock is thrown across the room.
I pick up debris as I walk barefoot around the house.
Gritty, I become uncomfortable.
Meetings on Mondays make the weekend die in strange ways.