The Walk To Work

The Walk to Work

I didn't deserve it.
I was just walking to work.

Rain falling,
Almost,
But not quite sleet
All the world a study
In black, grey and the
Deep and pale shades of it.

He didn't mean it.
He was just driving home,
But here I stand,

The pool of barely thawed water,
Growing with newly melted snow,
Sent arcing .

Wet from chest to toe,
Keep walking.
He doesn't even realize. . .

Soot speckled snow banks,
Scribble of shrubs along the river,
Showing patches of
Ash gray, bitter water.
Shivering.

Plodding on
To serve other people dinner
Taken home to warm houses. 
As night comes down
Like a wet cloak,
Headlights and porch lights,
Dull gold on the wet. 

All the world a study
In black, grey and the
Deep and pale shades of it.
But for that gold.

Good thing
I keep a change of clothes
For the error of my own
Careless ways with dish water
And spilled milk
And don't just rest
On his fault and my deserving.