A monument built to rise above all.
Like a mountain raising its nose over those bumps, so-called hills.
There is a beauty found in nearly everything.
The hours after the rain when the streets are slowly filling again,
shop-owners carry signs back out and people walk like they just woke up.
They sky is white and bright. Park benches still glazed with drops, inviting for the unique chance to catch the best spot.
A glance at water running off a leaf, landing between neck and shirt,
crawling its way down the back makes one wonder if rain is just corner.
Just to gain power in the clouds again.