Thursday, April 22, 2004

rain

I ride the long tree-lined roads, with branches tunneling into the distance as flickering sunlight filters down and leaves flutter about in darting, swooping, daring displays of aerial drunkenness. And the howling wind throws ahead the fragrance of rain, a promise yet to be kept; while the dark clouds lend some credence and the lightning deftly punctuates the contract with the City: there will be rain, even if it's only a few fat drops plunging into my eyes.