The City In The Rain

They say it muffles sounds, the rain. But for me it amplifies sounds. Or maybe certain sounds. Or maybe that’s just the way my senses work. Or maybe there is some undiscovered sense that causes feelings for which we have no words to burrow themselves into the back of our minds. We are no two of us alike and our minds are as mysterious as the universe.

The sound of buses huffing along on the street. The sound of brakes squealing as the garbage trucks wheeze to a stop. It’s the sounds of the traffic, the mist in the air clarifying each individual noise.

What you don’t hear are any birds. Yes, even in the middle of Manhattan there will be birds, wheeling and diving, sharing gossip across the roof tops and light posts and cooing along the sidewalk hoping for a handout.

The children are quiet too. They are dashing from their lobbies or the subway entrances to get to buses and to get to school. They are as manic as usual but they are quiet maniacs. Trapped indoors, creatures out of place, they will turn their outside energy on their teachers, who in turn will curse the rain.

The delivery trucks and taxis are honking their horns more than usual. It’s easier to honk and stay dry than to get out and ring a bell, or tell a car to move along.

The stores are lit up, as if it’s dusk, and people dash between them, holding their bag of donuts or their coffee in blue Anthora cups. The lights in the stores look warmer than normal. Their lights diffused by the vapor in the air.

I observe it all in silence. I have a thought, a thought that I like the city in the rain. But what remains is more that feeling. How the rain and the trucks and the squealing busses make me feel. It’s a feeling that comes back. Whenever there are buildings and sidewalk and buses and stores and people.

And rain.

© Glenn R Keller 2023, All Rights Reserved

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