Red polka-dot sky,
Splashing through the silver mud,
She and her best friend—Snoop.
No fear of the coming scold,
Just the joy of falling rain.

Puddles turn to glass,
Shattered by a happy paws,
And a small wet shoes.
Her blue dress is soaked and stained,
But her heart is light and free.

Mother’s tongue may be sharp,
Counting every messy spot,
On the new-bought lace.
But the rhythm of the storm,
Drowns her worry of the cost.

Giggles in the mist,
A wagging tail, a soaking hem,
Living for the now.
Without a single regret,
They dance where the wild winds blow.

Paul Baldry (LongJohn)