Summer Young Writers Anthology - University at Albany

I.
My father’s favorite color
Is the sun shining
Through a black umbrella.
II.
An umbrella is a strange bird—
Smooth feathers of cloth
And far too many legs.
III.
Umbrella,
Do I always need you?
Sometimes I want to feel the rain
Fall directly on my face.
IV.
We often look
For an umbrella excuse:
Something that can shield our sins
From the rain of accusation.
V.
Mushrooms shaped like blooming
umbrellas
On feathery stalks of thin filament:
What is sheltered underneath?
VI.
Warning: Do Not Open
Umbrellas
While Inside the Building
You will be Held Accountable
For Any Bad Luck that Follows
VII.
Shared umbrellas are an excuse
For huddling together,
Electrically touching
When the rain stops,
The umbrella closes, reluctantly.
VIII.
Panoply of umbrellas
A sea of swimming color
Bobbing gently
With unexpected grace.
Ode to an Umbrella
by Tessa Kuster
IX.
How I want to leap
Into empty air,
And let my umbrella unfurl:
I would be a parachutist
With no strings attached.
X.
We turn an umbrella over,
Open and exposed.
We climb into its shell
It becomes our boat.
XI.
A broken umbrella
Handle torn off,
Tears in the fabric.
The rain leaks through
Like tears.
XII.
Girls walk together,
Twirling umbrellas.
Men let the rain fall.
Pearls of water
Collect in their hair.
XIII.
So many ways
To carry an umbrella:
Forward, facing wind;
Or leaning on the shoulder,
Like a lover’s arm.
XIV.
My umbrella
Is an extension of myself:
How often I hide
Behind its bright leaves.
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