After Rain

Beth Konkoski

 

I stand beneath a tree

drenched; drops

collect and hang.

Another shower waiting.

 

This next storm surprised

from leaves, even as I trusted

the sun that makes

Adirondack summer.

 

Feet wet in ferns

that touch like tongues,

I movedazzled, but

on guard now.

 

No cover,

no reprieve,

a certainty I know

but ignore.

 

This shoe too will

strike while I look

to the ground,

seek luck and chanterelles,

 

not thinking how

one storm crouches

behind another.

And after second rain

 

when I dry off,

saunter off and shake out

my drowning limbs,

comes the third.

 

 


Beth Konkoski is a writer and high school English teacher living in Northern Virginia with her husband and two children. Her work has been published in a number of journals, including: The Potomac Review, Saranac Review, and The Aurorean. She has work forthcoming in Route 7 Review, Gargoyle, and Blueline.