And the rain continues and February does what she does and the sun she dances in and out like a cricket popping in the corner and the light she provides a little later gives me a warning of the tinges of the warning warmer.  I pop down South Congress watching the puddles lounge lazily in the growing evening light past the basketball courts and 7/11 and school children.  I wander without a place to go but down the hill further I flow, past the trailers, past the midnight drummers, past the church and fire fighters, why wasn’t I invited?   The puddles they sleep as the sun sneaks past the horizon for the quiet and I run for the red front black door crush velvet  curtain tattoo heaven home of blues sensations and find out that I need to Hoooold ON!