|The Poetry of Richard Schletty|
|JOY OF A SLUSH PUDDLE|
I feel the steady, inaudible hum of Old Sol
arcing low across the morning sky,
above the innercityscape,
burning away the permafrost.
I step with greater pleasure,
I step with greater abandon
Suddenly, my right foot lands in a slush puddle.
But I am not angry.
There is joy today in this slush puddle