I try to find beauty in everything. People tell me my concrete jungle will never be beautiful. They just don’t see what I do. The rain pours down, making the steel giants shimmer. The people are below my window bustle about umbrellas sprouted everywhere making a symphony of sights, a meadow of wildflowers in a place the wild has been long gone. The trees in their neat little planters, have been nourished by the rain, making them come alive as if they were plucked from the garden of Eden. The sky is a plethora of hues, a gradient that lets you know the storm is here but be assured that showers always bring flowers.