look out

There is rain fall in late afternoon.

I open my windows to hear the heavy, steady stampede

of moisture pouring into my lungs and onto my skin.

I take it in.

My plants stretch up and out too.

Three hours later and the color of the sky is the same.

The rain is the same.

The smell of cotton candy and sea salt consume the air by

the burning candle.

I am hanging, breathing, stretching

the tension away.

Pulsing heart, warm body

spreading across the chair.

Noises from the street are changing.

From taxis zipping by

with the sound of water rolling under tires

tripping from street to street

to relaxed patrons taking turns to speak.

The block is lined with restaurants

sending scents

of savory sauces from below

and into my living room through the window.