You got caught in your favorite bean shack (that you call the diner) in a fresh rain of the rainy season and wrote this about your favorite village kid:
The Boy Who Bikes in the Rain
The rain falls as it does,
The plants breathe in deep, reverberating neon green.
The dirt roads play at being rivers
As a boy on a bike zooms by
Each time he enters your site he is in a new position on the bike,
Like some comedy montage;
First no hands
Then no feet
Then jumping over a slight bump,
As the clouds above descend below.
You later ask him why he biked in the rain
And he said it is because he always wanted to play in the rain and never had.
Isn’t that the essence of spring?
Breathing in deep, trying a new color of green?