A wet walk

It is very recently

That I was introduced

To the pleasures of

Walking in the rain

If it can be called pleasure

Not the warm, sprinkly,

Romantic, Bollywood kind

But the grim, wet, cold kind

That leads you

Into yourself

I imagine going off

Under an umbrella

Getting slightly wet

Ruminating, imploding

Thoughts becoming

More and more dense

In the limitation, suffocation

Imposed by isolation

Wisps forming into threads

And threads weaving into braids

Or forming tapesteries

Showing me 

Strange new patterns

Unprecedented and unseen

Beautiful and unexpected 

Sights that would 

Never have appeared

Without that specific moment

And which will always

Stay with you 

The rarity of their discovery

Startling you evermore

And I think of

How late I discovered

All this

And how little time 

I have left now

To explore it

Just thirty years, maybe

So little, so little

It makes me brace up

And learn to treat

Every occasion

With the intensity

Deserving

Of its rarity