The Up and Coming is a Starry Dispatch from This Current
Solid grey and everywhere to be seen. Desperate-for-rusting mufflers cough and choke out the day’s commute, second-handing our smoke over to us as the solid cloud sky drips and spits and spews in sessions murky rainwater, full on as a sprinter, in bursts though, running older and lower on energy, so that now and again the rain will almost stop, just before getting another wind and coming torrential as possible again. The cement streets, sidewalks, buildings and even trees without leaves lingering dead from a city’s winter, everything is grey. And begging for a change, the school kids and cyclists and street lights all try and call out with their bright colors, but a foggy spring coating proves them nearly futile. Slowly and between a frequency of rain that nearly seems to tip the scales back in Old Man Winter’s favor, we can feel the dewey warmth of a grand new age peeking through, and all we’ve got is the waiting, even as all we’ve got to do is wait.
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