bob barci - (untitled #72)

I sit on windy porch
with hazelnut in my coffee.
Swift moving clouds
spell impending rain.
Impatiently, I wait
for phone call of good news.
Shall I be chosen for reality show?
The chill of the rain
drives me back inside
to keep an eye on the phone.

bob barci

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/untitled-72-2/