I listen to the wet world outside
Car wheels slush through puddles on pavement
The road seems to stick like sweat
Water sprays against the roll of tires

I wonder what the dark streets hold for me tonight
The rain is cold today
All things are given by the same maker
But how can I help but have preferences?
I would rather be blanket wrapped
And book laden
But instead I will watch the gray road turn black
As yellow pockets of streetlights
Lead me onward like the candles
Of the holy assembly’s procession
Vowing me forever to the one who always waits
At the end of this slippery aisle