An unknown man walked down the side-street,
With leaden wear, gloves, and boots on feet.
Each inbound raindrop would only meet
The hood of his firm, red, umbrella.
It’d rained for months, still it rained further!
When he cursed it, it pounded harder…!
To clinch, he knew, there’d be no charter,
And so he bore that umbrella close.
So close, he could not quite scan the sky
He did not check- favored staying dry
On, it still poured, the heavens do cry,
For its folds bowed, the air loud and dim.
He’d scoured his doubts, but to what sense…? “Nay!”
“The skies do yet cast their disarray-”
“I’ll block this rain til it fades away!”
Near folk strolled out to a sunny morn’.