It was a warm night and I slept with the window cracked open, waking from weird dreams and each time lulled to sleep again by steady drumming and splashing.
These past few months of getting up at six on Fridays have been... different. A early-morning world I've never been familiar with. Closer to the earth, out here before the city mayhem gets going. Closer to the air and breeze and slowly growing light. This is the first time in heavy rain. Stride out, then. Oh, but here beneath the Linden trees the footpath is all slimy leaves!
Made it to the shelter of the covered bus-stop. Shaking my umbrella and my wetter sleeve, the left one. My trouser-legs are soaked and steaming - ugh! The water falling in sporadic sheets from shelter roof to ground, pooling and gurgling round my feet. There's not much traffic; waiting in the quiet and wet.
the rain whispers
damp little words
like trickle and drip
(bear with me - first attempt at haibun. haiku written a while ago for TRAIL MIX)