Concrete Jungle Rain

Rain cascading down on the cold Bronx streets, tapping the old dirty pavement, weaving its way through the barren branches of trees and finding its way onto the grass where a single house rests on its laurels and little squirrels play tag with one another, ignoring the storm. The rain takes its journey across rooftops and sidewalks, falls into alleyways, cleaning the city of its discarded flyers and refused advertisements. Washes away the grime of the borough so it can get trashed another day. The rain falls the same way in the Bronx as it would where you are, but a different purpose it has— each droplet tagged and numbered, reaching its destination and starting a new task. Rain comes down, but the wildlife of the jungle goes on with the tasks and jobs. Such is life in the concrete forest until it rains another day.