My Buddy and the Rain.

Rain like this is moody. It becomes a person. Someone that I can't forget, kinda like the character you might see everyday on the bus or street corner, just doing their own thing. But my suburban kindness prevents me from getting to know him. Across the street from the coffee shop sits Wright park. The compact dirt walking trails are collecting puddle characters of their own. Trees are bombing walkers with balloon sized drops. The soft pink blossoms are are hands waiting to drop freely given prizes, like middle school kids who have just discovered gravity. The weather around here doesn't let me forget why I appreciate my Latin American friends.