There was, as those of us in eastern Massachusetts know, quite a band of rain and hail that crossed through yesterday afternoon, which might be why the leader of our writers’ group last night had puddles on the brain. For one writing prompt, we were challenged to use the words ‘middle, addle, and puddle’ in a scene. My brain went from Beatrix Potter’s oft-confused Jemima Puddleduck to ee cummings’ “puddle-wonderful,” and this is what happened next.

Portrait of Mrs. Andrew Reid; c. l780–1788
Kimbell Art Museum, Fort Worth, Texas; Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons, (Looks like a puddle-splashing fan, doesn’t she?)

Promenade
by Meg Winikates

Misty morning meander to
the green in middle distance,
addle-pated chatter of a
governess’ persistence.
Mischief of a moment,
a jollity, a happenstance:
Puddles soak through petticoats!
The scold, the cold are
worth the dance,
to turn, to trip, from twenty
back to twelve,
to find beneath the formal figure
one’s former sense of elf.