Umbrella

Though I enjoy the gentle rain
And electric fingers skyward,
Clapping thunder in the distance
With a gentle breeze against my cheeks,
I enjoy you most during those walks of wettest weather.
Finding pleasure in the music your shelter provides,
A polyrhythmic percussion,
A chaotic beat that cannot be followed or performed,
Evoking the earliest memories
Of reflections jumped upon
And splashed about,
The river rush of gutters tempting for a swim,
The prospects of fresh mud
And squishy toes in soaking socks.
When the weather lets up,
I may use you as a walking stick
And for a moment I can feel like a gentleman,
Tapping my way one step ahead,
But always hoping for a reason to open you up
When I can remember galoshes and ponchos
And the sticky fingers of childhood.