Concerning umbrellas

The first of the autumn gales has hit the country, the wind blowing ceaselessly across the flat countryside, demanding the trees bow obediently before them and hurrying leaves to anywhere else but here.


Rain comes and goes, intermittently, then drizzly, then in showers... the poor umbrella too ineffectual at moments, proved unworthy in the battle against the elements.


Now they lie, discarded, unheeded, unneeded after having served their purpose as best they could... in the streets, in garbage bins, drowning in puddles... I think it's just so sad...