Hymn for the almost-rain

Shout of pear blossom cloaks the city in incandescent memory

Under bridges of forgotten joy and wayward streetlight

Don't stay; I have nothing to give.

Despair of sunset croaks out between corner shops and buses

Evening settles over the people and blesses them with busyness

Now a shelter for crowds religiously trying to forget how to dream

Let me lay here and weep. Please.

Yesterday's chatter still tucked in the whispers of park trees

Tremble of leaves a chorale in the face of concrete and steel

Hurried cars stampede their pedestrian rhythm on resigned highways

I am tired of begging for relief.

Starlight whimpers, barely strong enough to piece haloes of airplanes,

Daring to push through the almost-threat of fog and weary storms

Even my breath is asking to be spared.

First blush of night's glory mirrors off the sea in the deep, embracing dark

Engulfing the shore in a likeness of angel legion and synthetic sunrise

And I still have nothing left to give:

The skyscrapers all reach out into the infinite and find themselves wanting.