The Raincoat

I was reluctant to blame
Getting wet on the rain,
Since from the sky it was plain
That rain was the game.

Although it wasn’t raining then
And hadn’t just rained before,
I grabbed my raincoat on second thought
As I headed out the door.

As I embarked on my walk, I tried not to balk
At having to carry my slicker,
Especially because, my friend really was
Trying hard at me not to snicker.

An umbrella or raincoat
He said was the height
Of pusillanimity,
Which he thought was not right.

But the longer I schlepped
The hotter it got;
And then it got steamy
Instead of just hot.

I was sweating up a veritable storm
Feeling evermore like a jerk–
Dragging the raincoat over my arm
Was feeling a lot more like work.

If only the sky would hurry and rain—
As all of my inklings had indicated—
For having hauled a raincoat completely in vain
Only a downpour could get me vindicated.

But once again,
My friend was right—
I was over prepared—
Much too uptight!

Wriggling into my raincoat
When I felt the first drop,
I felt better and better
When the drops didn’t stop.

At first the light rain
On our heads felt good,
But then I judiciously
Put up my hood.

And so it began
As an innocent patter;
Then the drops got fatter
And started to splatter.

As the cold rain pelted
My poor friend on the head,
I savored the dryness
I was enjoying instead.

Rain dripped from his nose
And ran into his shirt.
All his remarks
Sounded shivery and curt.

Although my poor friend
Was a cold, soggy sight,
Guilty comfort is mine:
Still dry, and, for once, right!

Photo Credit: Downpour vision, http://www.northernpanriders.co.uk