The highway is a blur,
rain-washed marker
on a paper one shade lighter
than the road itself.
The hum of life
is surprising to find
in such a dead city,
but every society, I suppose,
has its day.
Muted by the rain,
these normally harsh sounds
are soft and slow,
like summer days
spent lying in the sun.
Ironic how the rain
can bring sunshine to
highway affairs.
