This morning the rains fell upon the city;
heightening the contemplative mood
within which I found myself.

It began as a cacophonous downpour,
followed by a brief but measured rest.
Upon resuming, the rains alighted gently and rhythmically,
as if relief had come from the initial burst
and contentment from the pause.

I longed to be in the presence of that revered trio
whose trumpeter's sounds still echo within me.
Yes, though my convictions have grown dubious with time,
an impassioned but faithful rendition
is something to embrace on such a day.

Having warded off a material challenge
from late afternoon's chaotic fusion of asphalt and steel,
the melodies continued well into the night.

The rains, bond between past and future,
temporal and eternal, are exalted
for allowing respite from the mundane and disconcerting,
and bringing us closer to the ground of our being.