I hope you ignored the insult and accepted the offering.
I hope you smiled, and squinted, and looked up into emptying clouds.
I hope you stomped some really good puddles.
I hope you noticed beads suspended in spider-webs while businessmen shuffled past.
I hope the rain smelled sweet, and in the grey street old oil spots woke to bleed bright orange and blue, all for you, on a wet walk to work.