The Joy Of Being

Wind smudged rain clouds

Smear the sky

Far more than fifty

Shades of grey.

The ghost of the sun

Glowers behind them

Awaiting apparition.

Rainfall pitter-patter

Drops on chitter-chattering

Children and mothers

And others walking

On leaf-patterned

Streets of autumn gold

And green and red.

The taste of rain is empty

Like it’s smell

Though passing people smell

Of many things

Of who they are

Of good and bad

Of spices and niceness

And sometimes

Of a blighted, dirty life.

Gulls call and crows caw

And the traffic roar

Is made hiss by rain.

Puddles shatter underfoot,

Splatter as I dance in them

Like an old fool.

I can’t dance, never could

But I can feel

I can feel this, all around me,

All the lovely shittiness,

All the ugly prettiness,

All the things we see

And hear and smell

And feel and taste.

All these things bring joy,

The joy of being

A sentient being.

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