Grey Evening...

Angel,

As promised by the day, the rains have come. The city air is pregnant with the smell of wet pavement and the splashing sounds of tires in the rough rutted roads. Small rivers run down either sides of the streets - the asphalt shedding the water like the back of a giant black snake. 
These rivers withe their small eddies and puddles run their end into a corner grate. Falling into an underworld labrynth of sewers that we never see... Never consider how vast a network it must be...

Some of the rain will be sponged up by lawns and gardens - the plans already greening with their gratitude for the rain. But most of this water falling on the rooftops and roads will be funnelled under ground.. These little rivers joining all of the other little rivers... All flowing out to the lake that this city is built on the shores of...

The two natural rivers that run through this city; the Don in the east and the Humber in the west, will swell with the rain. And they will end at the lake as well - pushing out their charge into the deep grey vastness of Lake Ontario.

The city feels new, clean, fresh... We have been redeemed.. The dirty sins of our city washed in water and our filth absorbed by the lake, our Baptist, the mother of this city.

We are changed by the rain though we do not know why.