It was a sultry day. Her plans were for a simple life
Tea and biscotti with reasonable surprises
And canopied by her colorful hat
She tended to gypsy flowers
Re-christening themselves in buds
Prying eyes of busy bees rustling about inspecting
Ne’er do well suburban woodland gossip.
Then a sprinkle -- a teardrop -- a rumble of thunder
Pierced the calm as she looked up to wisping clouds
Small patches of portending gray
(Reflecting silvery tendrils peeking from beneath her hat)
Matted into a horizon covered in ink-mottled strokes
Abruptly, the rain stopped – surrendering to an eerie silence
Bruised sky of the impending vortex
Varicose flashes countered by rumbles in still air
Brusque breezes quickly crescendoing into raging gales
Turning angrier and angrier.
She turned defiant
It assaulted, bearing down
Accusing finger whirled
Scratching its random line on indicted fields
Fledging into the horizon in swirls of gossip debris
A vendetta releasing its scandal-tossed, thorn-crusted crowns.
Staring at the rumorous whirlwind
Accused but not convicted
She entered her plea
Nolo contendere, so b*gg*r off!
Her dreamcoat hat staying put
Unwavering in the bracing breeze.
Suddenly her color-patched hat was blown off
Into the masticating cyclone with the prickly crowns
But her head remained unbared
As her Bartholomew Cubbins hats surfaced at full speed
One by inexhaustible one, each more bejeweled than the last
As she stood in impromptu martyrdom
Unbowed by life’s endless maelstroms.