Well, it turns out to be a four-poem session. I didn't realise I'd missed the Day 5 Prompt until I got to Number 6.
 Prompt 5: a broken poem.

Somehow I broke the logical series
and while I try to repair the links here
my daughter brings in her washing
to thwart rain's purpose - to break
the back of drought- & to collect
brownie points from gardeners
whose hoses can stay coiled
another week, maybe a month.

This poem has no connection
with its contents but sits quietly
on the page contemplating the random
pattern of colours my daughter
has broken down into a bucket load
of modern tee shirts & underwear.
The patio light highlights the stillness
of crowded plants waiting for the blows
rain will deal, and makes the slowly
collapsing silver beet in seed seem
exhausted by the weight of reproduction.

It's closing time now
for poem, and light,
washerwoman, mind's
undisciplined flights.
Goodnight!