In the Chattering

In The Chattering

Breeze-blown leaves 
semaphore a coming storm,
flashing their light green backsides
 
while downtown streets 
start chattering with arrhythmic raindrops, 
nature’s morse code,
 
its discordant beat 
a metrical muse embraced by
a street corner beatboxer 
 
dueling with Coltrane’s 
brooding sax sauntering from
a second-story window,
 
a jam joined by my fingers strumming
a cafe table, contemplating the lack of cabs 
and my choice of shoes,
 
as the rain ripples
a child’s boat in the fountain
like a ship wrestling a rogue wave,
 
the moment when
the weather’s gentle acoustics 
give way to its symphonic might
 
and force me to choose
to outrun nature or stand still 
and be cleansed.