#6

Rain like popcorn bursting against my window. Like frightened moths illuminated underneath a streetlight, flying wildly, against their instinct, toward the ground. Birthing an urban creek, flowing down concrete beds, disappearing into metal mouths. Polishing the pavement, turning the roads to black mirrors, glowing neon in answer to the stoplights. Rain, quietly tapping its nails on windowsills, washing the day away as it sings the city to sleep.