Poem for her 968

The Cabin

Rain was puddling the yard

The clouds were warm

The air damp

Snow was a season away

Glad we made rock paths

Those were dry

The carport cover kept us dry

Out for a grocery run

Town was dry hardly a cloud in the sky

Rain would bee there soon

Run the cart stock the cabin

Have some cheese and bread and meat sliced

When we got home

The rain had stopped

Picnic

Happy Birthday Babe,

Charles.