The Iced Pipe Blues

It's poetry morning at Mark's Work this morning.


The Iced Pipe Blues

Woke up this morning to the “Iced Pipe Blues,”

Lay there a-wondrin,’ just how bad’s  the  news?

Got awfully quiet, during the still of the night,

That gen’rally means cold, and it’s got a mean bite.

Puddles freezing up, and they crack like a shot,

When Dozer’s  up and  crackin,’ giving what he’s got.

Bouncing all around like a hot potate, 

getting all worked up, like he’s got a sweet date.

Back from our walk, bowsers acting awful thirsty,

Yesterday’s water, first things firstly.

Hitting up the houseplants, chillin’ in our bedroom,

Watch the philodendron, not a lot of headroom.

Back to the faucet, bowsers wait patiently,

Only take a second, twist the water handle gently.

The only thing I hear is the sound of silence,

That can only mean one thing, I won’t keep you in suspense.

The water pipes are frozen, though I left the water on,

In the front yard by the roses, and the mugwort just beyond.

Now the dogs are panting, and I need to find some water,

I guess it’s the creek-bed, so down the slope I totter.

Sitting frozen to the ground, I found a five-gallon pail,

Took it to the creek and filled it, “It’s got a hole!” I heard me wail. 

Racing to the top, to arrive before it leaks,

 Hurry, hurry, if you will, we haven’t got two weeks.

Now the dogs are drinking and you know that all is well,

Except the pipes are frozen, Oh my Buddha--what the hell!

At least there’ll be no bursting ‘cause I left the water flowing

If you think you hear some laughter, well you know it’s just me crowing.