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Woman, traffic, rain

Penetrated by rain, a woman sits as if invisible, on a rug spread over forsaken grass sloping to a footpath parallel to dual carriageways. Raindrops glitter in her grey hair, crease her face, seep into her possessions, saturating, exposing. Trucks slam past spraying rain and filth, their tyres yowling like tomcats. Diesel fumes sharpen the air, mixing with smells released from earth and grass. The woman waits, appears not to notice the traffic, the disapproval, that sky cast in iron. I hope she remembers better weather because this rain has set in. Nothing will stop it now.