Underneath the brim, she peeks out, puts out a hand, draws it back full of droplets. She walks on
Meditating on the sky, muddy splashes of
Bluish gray, darkening to black. Clouds,
Rain heavy, sit on the horizon, rumbling like grouchy old men. She clutches closed the neck of her coat, walking briskly. She passes few on the street
Everyone is staying inside today,
Looking out streaking, foggy windows, glad not to be the men holding newspapers over their heads
Leaning into the wind. Puddles splash and windshield wipers swish
And the woman keeps walking
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem