Walking from coffee,
In anticipation of rain.
Thoughts like leaves,
Flutter through my brain.
Could I make it to the river,
Without getting wet.
To guesstimate Prague weather,
Would be a fool's bet.
The day was so indifferent,
A sky of pinks and grays.
Colored leaves squealed the end of autumn,
Through a milky, sun-tinged haze.
I thought of coming seasons,
As I climbed the Kinský garden hills.
A virus has imprisoned us,
I fear a new year void of thrills.
So now I sit by the wading pond,
As dogs circle my legs.
One dashes into the water,
While the other nears me to beg.
Soon I will rise,
For to Malá Strana I descend.
My fall stroll will finish,
Having more coffee with friends.
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