There is nothing better than E.E. Cummings on a rainy day.
This immediately came to mind as I stared out my Philadelphia window this morning.
I do not hate the rain. I do not take it personally. I reflect on it, constantly.
in the rain-
darkness, the sunset
being sheathed i sit and
think of you
city which is your face
your little cheeks the streets
your eyes half-
half-angel and your drowsy
lips where float flowers of kiss
there is the sweet shy pirouette
a single star is