Oh dear- it is windy,
and the rain falls
like shimmering sheets
of silver plating,
hammering obnoxiously
on the ladybug red
of my umbrella,
almost causing my step
to falter numerous times,
and land me in
the sloshing gutter,
a thin soup of thick mud
and refuse draining down
its subterranean pipes,
soon to meet back with
its motherland, the ocean
(this I learned from my
childhood friend Nemo,
and thus know it to be true),
whence it may swirl in eddies
large and small, perhaps to
amuse itself by confounding
a small fishing boat
or large cruise ship
with the currents it is
capable of creating that
may yet prove stronger
than a structure of wood
and metal and man-made brawn.
A playful gust wrests
my foul weather friend
from my iron grip with
invisible fingers like wrenches,
and I am immediately drenched
in the precipitation's
endless onslaught of drops
like bullets, small and piercing,
with the stinging nip of
icy chills that travel up
and down my spinal cord,
causing a tremendous headache
and numb, clammy feet.
Racing after my now-dripping
promise of a slightly drier head,
my hands are a poor substitute
for the job best prescribed
to the one custom-made
for this kind of work,
and are soon cold as my
frozen feet encased in their
sodden water-proof
brown leather boots.
I make a mental note to
not buy this brand again.
Borne upwards by a mischievous
gale, the polished wood handle
is just beyond my wrinkled,
prune-like fingertips,
seeming to tease with vindictiveness,
unrelenting and ruthless
int his game of keep-away.
I am not amused.
Dashing across
the open street now,
my umbrella is just visible
as a speck of vibrant crimson
amidst the drab, blended
neutrals of the city.
At last, tired of its charade,
the whirlwind lets down
my rightful property in a
blessedly low branch of
a budding sapling
just ten feet away.
Grateful, I shake off the
excess water droplets
from the edges, and
continue on my way down
the puddled sidewalk,
with a glimpse of a gleaming
rainbow just peeking out
of the clouds behind me.
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