Frankfurt Rainy Night
A one-minute travel vignette
A short prose-poem from the 🌿Leaves Archive of April, 2023. If you have already read it, thank you! New subscribers, I hope it suits you.
Frankfurt, Rainy Night
I sit in a second-floor Kaffeebar, jet-lagged, sipping a second cup of honeyed coffee, trying to stay awake just a few more hours before going to bed.
Below, a red-haired woman in a fern-green scarf, leans into the weather, head down, mouth puckered, the bitter taste of a German winter on her tongue.
In a whisper of rain, a one-man band sings and bangs his tambourine on the Fressgasse with no other audience but the pigeons and the wind-whipped leaves.
Kaffe house clutch of coffee honey dripped drink of time waiting for jet lag and sleep to notice other late night people plying a trade. Like the rain drops pouring out from the window scenes.
Somehow, winters in Germany seem colder. That second cup of honeyed coffee sound real good.