The exercise:
Write a four line poem about: thunder.
Had a pretty decent market this morning. Sold out of berries and rhubarb, and managed to sell 16.5 of the 25 crates of cherries we brought with us. The second week of cherries is always slower than the first, as so many more vendors have them by then, so I think we did all right.
The weather was kind to us as well, other than a 15 minute thunder shower at noon that cleared out the market. But customers came back out of hiding afterward and we did get a few more sales before things closed up at one.
Ready for a day off now.
Mine:
A low rumbling
Turns into a roar;
Rain is coming
And it's going to pour
2 comments:
Well done with the cherries; what happens to the remaining 8.5 crates then? And who bought half a crate, and how did they carry them away? I'm kind of picturing you stuffing handfuls of cherries into their jackets and hoods and gloves... :)
I really like your poem today. It's got the perfect speed and rhythm and introduces a storm beautifully.
Thunder
She said he stole her thunder
When he told her mom they'd marry.
Her mother laughed and said
He could take what he could carry.
Greg - the leftover cherries go back in the cooler and we try to sell them locally on Tuesday. And we just sell them by the pound (people can grab a bag and help themselves or we can do it for them if they have a certain weight in mind), so it just happened to work out that there was that much remaining.
I like the rhythm and flow of your poem, and I like the tale it tells even more :)
Post a Comment