This Morning
Jennifer Paulsen
This morning it rained,
The rainy-morning smell hangs in
the air,
Water drips from leaves on trees,
And Molly is dead.
This morning damp leaves fall from
skeletal trees
To the grass browning with autumn,
The first frost of the season is
thawing in the sun,
And Molly is dead.
This morning birds fly noiselessly,
Dipping in low arcs to the ground,
The newspapers headline the latest
news.
This morning small puddles ripple
on the walk,
A squirrel darts away from the
creaky screen door,
Moisture sticks to the mesh in
bubbly patterns.
This morning young children in
shoes shiny with dew
Walk noisily along the rainslicked
road
To the schoolhouse where she
would be,
But Molly is dead.
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