summer rain doesn’t feel so sad. it hurtles down so the sky can bear less weight. it is in a vertical hurry, but it still finds the time to shine in at you as it passes outside your window. each drop is a mirror like your own eye, and each considers you (even if for a moment) before rushing up from the asphalt to meet the undersides of soles, or before kissing your bare ankles as pulverized wet.
humidity
