Stunned by winter's tympani
and how near as tapped mallets
the hail seems against glass,
there was plenty of time to hit
the buzzing oven alarm
on the trip down stairs,
picking up empty pop cans with
the pitched canvas kicks,
so I took a crossword guess,
made a phone call to mother
before attempting last week's dish sink
or water and a walk for the dog.
Easel lazes on spotted muslin
until the house chores ebb and let
sea foam swirl around my ankles,
yolk-yellow light my eyes.
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