Upon my bed at 2 p.m. I sit,
a pillow pushed beneath a twisted knee.
My step into the basement was a split
on mud the flooded creek laid slippery.
I didn’t need that step. I’d seen enough
to know the pilot light had not been drowned.
The creek has swelled before – I know the stuff
it ferries when it overflows the ground.

I slid upon the squishy silt like grease.
My sole could get no purchase, so I bought
a wrenching twist. Now here I perch with peas
and elevation, idleness unsought.
Ungracious fool: I don’t deserve this break
but I’ll recline to it, for healing’s sake.

(I’m okay. This one was started in a former home,
back when we used to get rain.)