Incessent drumming and the roar of raindrops Keep me from sleeping past dawn Welly boots step into the cold, wet day as the sky weeps for the loss of summer. The wind takes the wheel, driving water up trouser legs, into socks, under hats Blown out beş lira umbrellas discarded on the overpass A graveyard of useless metal spiders. Still, Still it rains Impromptu lakes form from the spontaneous rivers flowing in every street Bosphorus babies, cleansing the heart of the city People look like street cats; Soaked, preening, cowering under any shelter they can find And still, Istanbul. Still she rains.