City with a soul

Dear Wellington

You rained for four months when I first arrived, pausing only to breathe before crying another bucketful.

Then, when it was me who was crying, you changed the backdrop to bright sunny days - fresh from the wash. 

I took refuge in your night, when you stole the stars from the sky to decorate your tall buildings in a forest of christmas trees. 

Under the street lamps I fed pigeons and listened to "Grenada."  

I guess a city can have a soul, maybe made up from all the souls within it, because I never felt alone.