Morning Drizzle

Before sunrise, the rain was a drizzle and the air was warm.
Birds chirped as I stood on the porch in Simpsons pajama pants and my shawl,
and that ugly street light radiated its ugly glow.
Putrid glow.
That light is visible putrid.
Palms up, I held my hands under the drizzle,
and my palms were bathed in putrid light and random raindrops
as warm air tugged at my shawl.
And the putrid energy
and weeping clouds
and chirping birds
and warm breeze
and flowing shawl
and comfortable Simpsons pants
made the morning delightful.
Those random raindrops were alive as they crashed onto my
putrid-glowing palms,
and it was so beautiful, I could not move.