Hail, Rain and Drought

He moved a bit more than before in hour eight,
and the rain soaked the lawn. Now, sun overhead
it left Charlie with a feeling of dread. Wait,
Listen, I’m not quite done. A feeling of dread;

roughly made bed or one just used for fun.
Another cold night you will never see,
if hope springs eternal the deed will be done.
Never worry Charlie, I’ve just got to be me

And you just got to be you. If the heel
now fits the shoe, follow the bread crumb
dotted trail. What perils remain to test his steel?
Dropped in the poor box but priceless to some.

Rutted. Charlie fights and digs his burrow, a shady
outcrop tract of earth and molted clay.
Under the oak tree leaf roof, Charlie bravely
goes through the motions and gets through the day.

Hold on! Wait! What do I see? What are those things?
The nymph becomes a fly? Have you sprouted wings?

Hour eight, 4pm
Hail, Rain and Drought
(form Acrostic/ Heroic Sonnet)
Charlie the Mayfly.

v.j.calone