Rain Street

A light rain comes in suddenly, quietly. As if sneaking in late.

Gentle. Yet a low rumble of thunder rolls across the sky from east to west.

The Spring Peepers in the pond next door sing a song of joy I’ll never know.

A few blocks down, a car that was cool half a century ago groans and creaks slowly through the intersection. I can almost smell the aged vinyl seats and hear the crunch of gravel beneath cracked tires.

Wonders.

Everywhere the eye looks, wonders for those who pause and notice.

I’m alone on the porch. I could be inside watching something. Like everyone else.

But I think I’ll stay here a bit longer.

See if I notice anything else…