Arthritis in the Rain

A subconscious reminder avoids any limp,
while it hints at what lurks overhead
I react to the clouds that are clotting the sky
with a shiver, instinctively shed
all vivacity; hunching, imagining cruel
and sadistic-mad, torturing squalls.
But I’m wrapped in such glittering rain with a bow
of excitement, so stabbing that mawls
is a price half-accepted. My age.
As I hurry inside to be warm
I forget that my gait is uneven because
I’m alive to exult in the storm.