Mourning Spring in the City
Day breaks shadows of the night,
returns the colours to our sight,
crimson reds, bright orange and white,
clouds and omens in the light.
Purple hues streak pinkish skies,
morning yawns an early rise,
with lilac blooms on the breeze,
to mask the acrid air we breathe.
Clouds of grey in aura of blue,
their movements let the sun rays through,
brilliant colours in rainbow hue,
with solemn promise to renew.
Golden blankets cover lawns,
of forest green and greys of dawn,
flowers remain, with florets gone,
the lion weeds begin to spawn.
Pods emerge in puffy display,
such perfect spheres in every way,
showing secrets of suns array,
in calm before, they’re washed away.
Wind picks up to awake the trees,
their flowers waiting, for the bees,
yet blight is present on their leaves,
that shiver’s fever in the breeze.
Silence pierced by a robin’s thrill,
nourishment captured in her bill,
as thunder rocks the morning still,
and rainfall brings a misty chill.
Factory skies now cleansed by rain,
as earthen tears begin to wane,
a breath of air to ease the pain,
and flush the poisons down the drain.