The wind was kicking the can. It created a crass noise, clanky, hitting the pavement as a repetitious toss in the air. It finally came to a roll, it was bent out of shape. It was a soft drink can from what I could make of it. After the roll it was ditched by the wind into a pool of melted snow by a curb.
I had the notion to pick it up and to carry it to the nearest municipal recycling bin. Yet, the can that caught several pedestrians’ attention, became so submerged, I couldn’t get access unless if I wanted to get my socks and shoes drenched.
Somehow or other I related to the can. I took it to be me, a soul on a sojourn, being hurled around, and then journey’s end materializing. I hope that one day my shenanigans will reach a complete stop, that is, the wrestling of anger, greed, lust, and covetousness.
In the meantime I was enjoying the sound of the symphony, that is, of water dripping, and water flowing, and then draining into the street manholes. It was all the dynamics of a spring thaw that makes its own music.
The can contributed immensely.
May the Source be with you!