It’s raining
when the police cars
and ambulance
park in front
of the old man’s apartment.
They leave their windshield wipers on
and hurry inside
with oxygen
and a defibrillator.
Twenty minutes later
they’re back outside
with blank faces
putting away equipment
talking on cell phones.
The rain has stopped
but their wipers still scrape
back and forth
on dry windows
like pendulums counting notes
in a last refrain.
When the clouds part
they all drive away
and the sun shines
on the old man’s home.
Tendrils of steam
from the wet pavement
hover above the parking lot,
then rise gently
up into the sky.
.
© 2013 Betty Hayes Albright
Seasonings 