Puddles

permadirt under the nails

the smell of mint, cilantro and basil

rainwear cloaks her body

head cast down

water rolls off her hat brim


a serious of shudders

she ducks into Schlagels

and orders the matzo ball soup

the white tile on the floor

matches the formica tables clean


she heads to the restroom

scrubbing her hands

the cashier gave her that look

when she paid, fingers stained

with the blackness of manure


good enough, it will have to be

she spoons the hot liquid

into her mouth cherishing the warmth

looking out the drizzled window

she spies a rain slicker


yellow sheen with matching boots

jumping from puddle to puddle

not a care in the world

she glances at the dirt she missed

clutching the spoon she swallows hard