the tin awning pings, repeatedly
a call from the clouds:
look around you
pay attention
the pitter-patter of precipitation
striking lightly, then violently
a mile-wide percussion band
tap dancing on the rooftops
established trees reach upwards
twirling gracefully at center stage
until their arms grow weary
bowing down to the dampened earth
moisture accumulates and seeps
guided by an ingrained
root-seeking missile system
propagating growth and new life
misty skylines and smiling trees
eternally remind, with their maternal nag
that stretching, snapping, and sprouting
serve to exemplify the transient nature of life
existential ergonomics 