A Mild Monday Morning in March

        Bird and Raccoon were playing a game of catch when Bird got bonked on the head.
       "Poor Bird, would a hug help?"
       Rabbit gave bird a hug.
       "It's not helping."
         .    .    .
       "What you need is a cookie," said Beaver. "You can fix any problem with a cookie."
                                                         from: Boo Hoo Bird
                               written and illustrated by Jeremy Tankard
​                                                             Scholastic, 2009
    Some of you know I'm taking a poetry class (for almost free) through Youngstown State University's 60+ program (since I am). The class is completely on-line, which is a very new for me and a little bit anxiety-causing. Lucky for me, too. One thing in my life did not change.
​    Our professor is really well organized. Although I've only seen criticism on my own work, he is astute, clear-spoken (okay, written), and kind. We write one poem each week and give critiques to our classmates. We're graded on our critiques and our original poems.
    Here's mine from last week. As always, comments are welcome and appreciated. 

              A Mild Monday Morning in March
Droplets splash, puddling sidewalks, backyards.
Sparrows tip speckled heads, sipping, sipping.
Deer graze, lazily, on daylilies, dahlias.

Flash! Crash!
Wind whooshing wildly.
Skybursting thunder.
Quick, quick.
Run. Seek shelter. Slam doors.

Gasp. Breathe. Sigh. Relief.

But, no
relief. 

Gasp! Rasp! 

Danger lurks in 
corners, hides in
carpets, cupboards, bedclothes.
Waits- invisible,
infectious.
Impatient as a mother waits
for the wail of her newborn.

Waits- invisible 
for another victim and
another and
another.

Again and again till all that’s left is sobbing, wailing, longing.
Dark disk eclipsed the sun.

Till all is over. Danger spent.
Gasp. Breathe. Sigh. Relief.

Calm restored.
Corona glows.
                          --stay curious! (and connected to each other)