The quaint old house withstands much,
but old caulking allows seeps.
Rain pounds on windows and walls,
sound of impact tinking on glass.
Curtains billow with each gust.
Wind pushes moisture through the cracks.
If only the storms came from the West.
We're more protected that side.
Dehumidifiers fight on.
Wifi, defeated, surrenders.
First world problems, nodding assent,
As mold grows on framed artwork.
Surface dust thickens where it sits.
The rain will stop, later this week.
Indoor Plants thrive; lawns are boggy.
Traffic backs up, people slow down.
Lights reflect on surfaces,
Passive watercolour paintings.
Gutters run downhill, full and fast.
The wind pushes, rests, then pulls.
Homeless and car-less have no choice,
Old coats allow seeps, everywhere.
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