Sitting in my lit kitchen, I look out the window on to the city. Rain drips down in a steady stream, inviting memories and thoughts.
I see people walk around the puddles below, stepping carefully, avoiding the pools. The red taxis filling the sidewalks with wet splashes as they quickly pass by. Do they all feel it too? The power and emotion of the rain? I wonder....
As I peer, the view below turns into a somber music video, with an acoustic sound track of subtle chords and deep grumbling vocals. That's what I see out there. It makes me sad, but aware and even weirdly happy all at once.
Should I cry? Should I laugh? Just ponder with a grin?
What do you want rain?
Umbrellas below continue their trek from here to there, with a soggy goal in sight. Important enough to journey through the wetness, persistent ants moving through the colony.
They must feel it too, I think.
Slowly, glistening sheens of liquid capture the light of the sun as she crawls over to my part of the city. Her light doesn't change my mood, but encourages me to write. That damp light pushes me to participate with those citizens below, look under their umbrellas, peek under their caps.
Yes, I see it now. They do feel the wet melancholy on such a day.
There's that rain, pushing moods, rearing emotions, playing that video....
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