the pit-pattering of droplets on the roof,
water sliding down windows and
dripping into people's eyes,
soaking coats all the way through.
cats bolt inside, kids run laughing
through the muddy puddles on the street,
splashing their ankles with wet, dirty water.
but kids don't care, and the rest of us
sing in the rain, for once not caring about
being cold and wet, because we know that
we can always escape inside.
but at night, I fall asleep to the tap-dances
of rain on the roof, a storm that blows over
like everything else in this world,
but it's nice while it lasts.