Piles and Puddles
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Warm rains fall on snow without a sound
The only evidence is the silver gray mist
Rising from the lumpy grungy piles around
It’s warm out for January, sixty degrees at noon
Winter dried skin feels smooth again if only briefly
Thanks to this tropical feeling winter monsoon
Office windows open to fresh air and a humid breeze oozes in
While stale heated air escapes into the wild
The sounds of patters and splatters creating a spring-like din
No longer silently falling into piles the drops
Noisily Tumble into salty puddles cleaning the winter away
Leaving the feeling of spring at least until the rain stops.
(An imagery poem)
A Picture and a Poem 