1. In the weeks when winter and spring are playing tug-of-war, morning rain can be expected. Some days I come home soaking wet, invariably displeased by the discomfort.

2. But also sometimes queerly glad of the few magical moments under the bridge where I pass to take a left turn.

3. That short stretch is my favorite part of the journey. Not only has it provided me with a reprieve from the elements, but also of the chance to get lost—even for just a breath of a moment—in a fantasy world. Years suddenly roll back to when I was a little girl, walking leisurely in the rain, stopping every so often to count the tiny droplets balancing on top of taro leaves.

Under the Shed

In the rain I will stay

under the shed where

cars go by, puddles splashing

memories flooding.

From under the shed

a quiet comfort and respite

busy faceless people passing by

eager to fly.

Time in a moment

an inaudible shriek, a loud honk

dark clouds parting

sunshine waiting.