Jan 22
1 min read
The Slushy Rain Turns To White
Sunday sonnet
It dropped a few degrees as rain began.
A drizzle while I finished my short walk.
What’s that? That sound like pinging on a pan?
That rain had turned to ice. The chickens squawk.
As soon as I could tell them, it’s alright.
A quiet fell and now we’re doing fine.
The freezing rain turned…
