It despairs the morning among drunken,
spring aroma that
debunks certainties and cravings for sun.


The world walks protected
in colorful fabrics, it is collected
in the selfish intimacy of the umbrella.


The pause of a rainy holiday
transfigures a quiet, ethereal and nebulous city.


It gives rebirth to that
quiet city that denies stress and haste.


While my soul blackened in anxieties,
absorbs the routine of drops
and sees the gardens colored green.


My hand still writes and
my heart still dreams of
asking the routine at the window
for that subtle calm that drowns out fear.