|
TITLE: Rainclouds By Patrick McClure 11/15/05 |
 SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
SEND ARTICLE TO A FRIEND
|
Rain mists lightly down on
Suburbans, sedans, pedestrians, transit windshields
Wipers swish, steadily, umbrellas deflect
cold precipitation
A man weaves through traffic, late for work
Another, shielded by the bus stop canopy
lights another cigarette, late for work again
Two mothers carry children on opposite sidewalks,
One in her arms, blanket shielding,
The other in a stroller, dashing to the store for eggs
At the Leary exit three men
huddle, homeless, under dumpster-found fortunes
One with blue hooded sweatshirt, another with beige fleece
a third, Nike Georgetown jacket
Children sit, weary-eyed, too early for academics
On a yellow bus, backpacks in their laps
Beat up Nissans stand barricaded behind the
Bus stop-signs, eager to pass
Trains clunk along, awaking those
In apartments, duplex houses with
Housewives, five hours of sleep
Everyone is going somewhere, doing something
and Nothing, simultaneously
Isolated beings move, and remain
unengaged to a society, moving swiftly
as the rain clouds overhead
Sunshine ricochets, barely, through the grey
Day approaches, and citizens creep along
Some seemingly, swiftly, but creeping
Like creatures in the night, hidden
From interaction, with the day, with others
A man sits, warm and comfortable
In his 2004 Lexus
Windshield wipers melodically hypnotizing
His psyche
A talk show host his only passenger
The heater warming him, otherwise cold
Reflexively blinking his way over he
Straddles the yellow, dodging a bus
Stopped at the curb, which
Picks up a man, wet hair,
Damp pant legs, late for work again.
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.