morning rain washes
everything clean
sidewalks, streets
air heaves with petrichor
and the scent of eucalyptus
thin crescent moon wanes overhead
masquerading as a wisp of cloud
today, two cars make u turns
in the middle of the street
what is not forbidden
is implicitly allowed
the sun, that smug bastard
burns through clouds
ruining this autumnal dream
but he draws my eye
like a pointed finger
two silhouettes
against a brighter bank
two souls
rising up on shafts of light
or a pair of angels
falling in slow
motion
Words and Feathers 