The Cloud

The thick light envelopes,
pregnant air pushing in gently from all sides.
A stale sweetness permeates the atmosphere;
the air pulses with floating sunlight.
A drop of rain.
A languid wind gust.
On the path to sustenance, I wonder when the rain will come.
How will I fill my self today?
Strolling down an alley, another drop.
The cloud meanders and teases.
It holds on; it wants to play a little longer.
I eye a café and go, indulging my whim.
Entering, I close the door and sit before the window.
A pitter-patter.
The concrete quickly darkens; the percussion rises.
The cloud rains for me.

May 31, 2024
Taipei