How I commend you, beauteous, doughty booties
Whose gusset is so firm about my calf
That I may intersperse my daily duties
With splashing and propensity to laugh,
I brace my bumpershoot against the gusts
And when it changes, I adjust my route,
Unlike the passers by, who are nonplussed
To find their brollies newly inside-out.
Though I delight in being well-attired
To challenge our infrequent rainy days,
The weather finds my clothing uninspired
And disapproves in rather pointed ways.
Of windy jokes I find I am the butt
When howling gales blow my umbrella shut.