the umbrella turned inside out
as a massive gust of wind shook it violently about
reluctant to bare her uncovered fingers to the cold
she cuff covered held onto it tightly yanking it back to shape
a surge of anger brewed, these sort of days she did hate
never ready, never prepared for it
they always began badly and rarely got better
time to get in control and show some grit
whose the boss “that’s me” she shouted out loud instead of quietly in her head
but it felt good, it felt bold she no longer was seeing red
she laughed at herself and her mouth gave the biggest smile
how easy it was to push that painful anger hurt away
she hoped she would learn and remember how easy another day
