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.