falls gently, not in searing drops of ice
shrouded in my red poncho i bike along
my usual route takes me through streets
of soggy fallen leaves,
once bright in autumn hues,
now a uniform, nondescript brown
the rain drums a rhythm on my poncho,
drenching my hands as they hold the handlebars;
my feet pedal a slow, easy rhythm
somehow it doesn’t feel worth pedaling fast
even to get out of the rain quicker
my mind wanders to other times, other rains
hikes in the fierce downpours of tropical monsoons;
other talks of rain: do you like being out in it?
do you like to watch it from cozy, warm indoors?
it depends, you say, on what you are doing
i take strange comfort in thoughts of you,
in your distant warmth from a far away land.