Under the dark greying mass I look out As the rain unleashes its temper Protected behind my window As if looking past another world   The beats gradually increase Performing a tribal dance as if memorized Or perhaps like pots and pans Falling with a clatter   Time stands still Or maybe it’s the traffic A pink finger appears And draws a smile On the fogged window I draw back a ‘hello’   A curtain of rain between us Protected behind our windows This poem was written on a journey through the rain in a car but it is also symbolic of strangers who connect through nature but still are…