The rain

And it really comes down too- washing away the grit and dust. Security, hope and safe passage. 

A hovel or hotel to hang your towels. High and dry above the tide. Water mark memory. Sink or swim mentality erodes at us. 

One was once naturally occurring- locked away we fear and follow weather reports lusting after our demise. At all the doors and windows. Peeking in as we peer out. Licking at our scarves, washing at our shoes. No more removed as it taps gently, or howls at from the trees. Peeling down the hall, under doors, through keyholes. The wind of change, lazily blows through you. Ultimately.

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