Cars fly by, red brown smears against tarmac.
Each drop of rain mirrors the other
as they strike the glassy surface of puddles.
A steady flow of the river's soul
filtered like blood through capillaries -
nimbus born of seas and estuaries,
grown from babbling streams.
The rain will fall.
Drops slip along my nose.
A flow seeding jacket zip with a river of drips,
dumping unceremoniously on jeans.
The rain spit-spots a lizard skin pattern on denim.
Each puddle splashes, soaking my shin,
with the spin of bike tyres.
Students hand out flyers,
protesting a picket line outside the union.
The morning light...
the bustle of human motion in flow.
Passing, silent in noise.
Still, in motion.
Image by The various media used in the poetry reading are all from CC licence sources: links to credit:
Music: Space ambient mix4 by Almusic34
Title picture: by Viacheslav Bida on Unsplash
If you have enjoyed this poetry post, please check out my homepage @raj808 for similar content.
