I wandered musing in the morning rain,
my fantasies afloat above my head,
on automatic pilot to the train
that pulls me to the office from my bed.
The drizzle ticked a patter on the black
umbrella roofing me with arching spears:
the atmosphere was silent, wet and slack,
that belled around my cheeks and in my ears.

I didn’t notice many things today,
but limited my vision with a roof
of fabric stretched upon a lacy frame.
Contained within a little moving room,
I wandered musing in the morning rain,
while habit pulled me westward to the train.