Rain, again

There’s a river running riot round the streets, galloping through gutters and shimmying down steps. Puddle reflections lend colour to grey pavement. The drops beat down like a rhythm, and maybe there’s a song below it, if you take the time to hear.

You blink away raindrops and watch people duck their heads, grasp for umbrellas. Their hair is frizzing up just before a meeting, they’ve just had it dyed, their boss will never forgive them…

And fair enough. But you’ve a little time, so you wait.

The song is there. It’s just at the edge of your hearing.

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