A light rain
is falling in the forest
the sound and smell is
most poetic
and telling
At the same time
a woman
bare white legs and an umbrella against black asphalt
silently strides down the center of the road
the sight
is most poetic
most telling
A drunk man
exits a taxi, speaking as if to an auditorium
stumbles a perfect zig zag
up the hill, toward the forest
the sound
is most poetic
most telling
The rain has stopped now.
Crickets remain.
You can’t smell the crickets.