Sparkle in the Rain

for once, impressionism's lack of detail pay off
A Rainy Day in Paris by Ulpiano Checa

 

Sparkle in the Rain

The very first drops and we’re under attack,
The sun is in hiding, the sky is in black,
We pull on our coat and we button our mac,
And we rush to get out of the rain.

Sheltered in doorways and clustered by trees,
We’re watching the drops as they dance in the breeze,
And cursing the spray and the drizzle and freeze,
As we long to get out of the rain.

Some make a dash, be they brave or naive,
Breaking from cover when showers reprieve –
Darting from shelter to harbour they weave
As they run to get out of the rain.

Some, with umbrellas, just pleasantly stroll,
Dry and protected with weather control,
But puddles and splashes may yet take their toll,
And so teach to get out of the rain.

The streets have all emptied, the crowds have gone home
The bird have all vanished, the bees seek the comb,
The colours are muted, the world monochrome
As the world must get out of the rain.

The gutters are flooding, and eaves getting drowned,
The kerbs are a torrent, the drains are unbound,
The fountains are pointless, and springs are uncrowned,
As they wait to get out of the rain.

But beauty is here, of a different strain,
For not ev’ry downpour’s a twelve-hurricane,
Why, just ask the ducks why they choose to remain,
And never get out of the rain.

 

 

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