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Umbrellas
raindrops scatter in sync
one one one
how do they ever find their way back?
reflections in puddles
are like fragments of mirrors
all along the pavement
where people step, sparingly
their silhouettes moving through
the crowded streets
the hug of the mist
sits around the bricks
and chimneys, and their necks
in each hand is carried
an umbrella of varying color
or style or size or cover
but while eyes peer down
or sometimes around or upwards
they still detect nothing
collectively, during these
clumsy strolls through the reluctant
pitter patter
why do we not connect
and flow back
like the rain?
I really like the imagery in the 3rd and 4th stanzas. I like how you compare the mist to a hug -- that is very effective. I can see it hugging buildings, bricks, etc., and finally I feel it hug me. I like the comma placement in the 1st line of the 3rd stanza -- it recreates the haltered steps taken by the people. The use of the term silhouette is nice because it defaces the people. They are not individuals. They are nameless silhouettes -- much like the nameless, facelss raindrops.