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How sweet the slant of rain,
a tender beat,
tap, tapping upon green leaves,
splattering down,
a cobbled street,
in pops and pings and clatters
and rings bells and cans,
thumping upon cars and
vans.


The downsputs fill
with rusty libations,
making waterfalls of wooden sills
and crystal creations,
slicking the red of
smooth bricks,
sludging crispy leaves
and slippery sticks.

Down, down into the darkened
subterranean deep ,
where mysterious things seep,
into the sucking sewers maw.
Bubbling, bubbling in sloughing
muddy realms
and sighing fangs and
grasping claws