Walking into the Sun

Seasonably dressed
I join the umbrella brigade,
people whose destinations
I don't believe in,

except for the young couple
ahead of me
sharing the one umbrella,

whose purpose seems to consist
of simply walking together
through the January rain,

whose feet move out of step
with the floating population,
as if to the beat of some music
known only to them,

making me miss my old traveling
companion, our own misty walks
and rainy strolls leading to nowhere,

and now that I've had a good cry
I shall cheer them on to a place
etched in sunlight, a wedding in June

or its most romantic substitute

and not only them, but all the inhabitants
of this miserable winter day.

By Lisa Lindsey