Grey, round and wet on the windshield

Before the wiper swipes, the squeegeeing

Seeping into my bones, dank and cold

Sopping, slogging, splashing,

Slowly dripping onto

Everything.

Piles of sloppy Gortex, boots and coats and hats

Freshly tracked in floors, patterned in rainboot waffle

Stuck on bits of leaf mold and mud

Everywhere you look.

Dry now means less damp, relative

Humidity always close to a perfect 100, we must be in first place

In rainforest championships and synonyms of rain.

Sidestepping squalls, all fifty shades of grey,

Our world now just ponds and roaring creeks on once green land,

Everything seen through the eyes of a duck,

We are all becoming paddlers.

–Neal Lemery 2/13/2020