La Temporada de Lluvia (1/30?)

The rain comes on quick, like a bad temper,
pounds its fists on ceramic roof tiles.
Some run, heels splashing with every click;
some huddle together beneath stiff brims of safety;
some put bags over their heads.

Then there are those who react no differently:
easy-paced, blinking rivers,
grocery bags of mango and star fruit collecting water.
The cobblestone turns a deeper red,
exasperated, teeming, wanting ever sole
to overflow from the cracks
like the road does; like the clouds do,
chest puffed, fog heavy in the sky.

Currently, I am sitting in a hammock listening to the rain on the roof and Billie Holiday, which was turned on by my new roommate, unsolicited. October and November are said to be some of the rainiest months, but it beats the Minnesota cold, so I’m not complaining.
Now I’m not making any promises here, but with my extra free time, I’m going to try to make a point of writing a poem or posting a photo every day this month.
Today y’all get both:
_DSC0165b
(View from my terrace)

Que todos esten bien. Be$o$.

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