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Rainy morning

I wrote this when waiting for the bus to come. It was a rainy day and I was captured by the different sounds and smells permeating the morning.

***

Cars slice through slick roads. Whoosh! Swoosh! The poets are wrong about the after-rain air; it’s not a hot and huffy lover’s breath. Instead it cleanses like mint. Someone’s doing early morning washing. Scrubbing detergent mingles with day-break smells; it energizes with fresh washing. The grey sky is a downer; moody and lulls commuters to sleep. The bus comes. I get on. It reeks of tired leather which causes me to lose my appetite for breakfast.

Thus the day begins.

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