Her Monday dump truck man

On Monday mornings

Usually when it’s raining

I see her
Long blond braids 

Tied with red, red that

Matches her raincoat, red

Like bleeding poppy flowers, red

Like Elton John lyrics
On Monday mornings

Usually when it’s raining

I see her
Perched on a gleaming 

Sky-washed rock, by the road

A cloth covered plate in her little hand
Waiting

For her dump truck man
Waiting for him to pull up

In his licorice red vehicle

And wave down at her

So she can walk up to the open door

And hand him the plate of food she’s prepared

 On Monday mornings

Usually when it’s raining

I see her
Waiting with him while he eats

The eggs and biscuits and

Sometimes bacon

Asking questions and tilting her head just so

So that the whole word flows her way
On Monday mornings

Usually when it’s raining

I see her
Sitting in the cab, leaning into his shoulder
Her dump truck man
As "Tiny Dancer" waltzes across the dashboard

And trickles into the trees

On Monday mornings

Usually when it’s raining

I see her
Touching his cheek goodbye

Splash through the tulip puddles on the slate pathway
As the sky gathers and bundles together color

Of strawberry ripples and rose jam

And all that remains on the ceramic plate is crumbs
Her dump truck man
Waving as he pulls away
Gone again until

The next Monday

When usually

It’s raining