Rain in the City
The city shivers in darkness,
Its bustle hushed under nature's brooding eye.
Every now and again,
People break from their work
To glance at the stormy sky.
After days and days of city rain,
It seems the sun will never come again.
The air is stifling and still,
And in it, raindrops hang motionless,
For there is nowhere left for them to fall.
Over every inch that once was earth
Lie puddles from the rain
And water runs in rivers black
Down dirty sewer drains.
I stand still as stone
On a deserted, silent street.
Under the misty darkness
I contemplate the storm.
Once, a lone passerby
Penetrates my timeless world.
Head down, shuffling with quick steps
Toward shelter from the gloom.
He is startled to see me standing quietly,
Smiling at the darkness.
I am, to him, an anachronism.
Like most of humankind,
He spends his days in a stronghold of steel,
Fearing the wilderness outside
And the way it pulls at his heart
With its mysterious voices.
He is afraid, and feels only malice in the storm.
Perhaps if an artist happened by,
One of those who looks beyond what others see,
He might see the wondrous beauty
That in this storm, reveals itself to me.
As the passerby hurries on
To an end he cannot see,
I turn my eyes from the unhappy town
To the distant line of trees.
The beautiful world has been painted with rain
In shades of silent blue and misty gray.
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