I used to like walking in the rain,
the romance of it, the me-against-the-world-ness of it!
One of my favourite photos is still of James Dean
in Times Square in the rain, fag in his mouth,
his reflection before him in the puddles.
Now I love an umbrella! I’ve bought the same one twice,
a small, black, sturdy brolly from Marks and Spencer.
I enjoy the pitter-patter on the canopy,
the shelter, even the chance to share its cover
I am not averse to. I cherish umbrellas’ cheeriness,
the aptitude for colour on grey days.
I suspect their history to be centuries old,
their simplicity a matter for brolliology.
I appreciate the grasp of freedom.
Yes, I adore that you can put them away.