Sarah's 35th birthday poem
by Darren Stone

Rain is the mood.
A silver black cloud.
A turn  for the worse, a run for cover.
Pelting and puddling and
Crossing the street is simply a swim for shore.

But I swim it gladly.

Coat pulled over.
Parcels dripping.
Two faces watch behind warm glass.
His little hands clapping.
She is thirty-six in a coastal Maine downpour.

And she wanted Red Velvet Cake.