The Von Bondies- Mairead

Glistening with spring's cleansing liquid and with the force of nature's cool breath the thoughts blow and tumble wildly down twilight's empty streets.

Like the many pieces of weightless refuse they swirl down along the weathered curbing and are bouncing to and fro.

Some sticking to man made paths of tar and stone, others lifted from the earth to the air in hopes of having some usefulness again.

It's the torrential rain.

It's the blustery winds.

It's one own mind playing tricks as one stares unfocused upon the little pieces floating and dancing with little refractions of light off the small drops of moisture they carry.

With every deflexion comes the brilliance of the highest caliber to one's eye.

And every one a shadow in its wake.

The specter that seems to draw them to there untimely demise.

Lost beyond hope.

Lost in one's thoughts.

Lost in the tapping of every droplet that pelts the roof above the window from which you sit and gaze is arrhythmic, soothing.

It takes on a melodic rapping on every shingle it strikes above your head.

Sometimes one can really enjoy the rain.