EVANESCENCE
Rain pools on the slick Saturday streets of the stone city
A man in a black hat strides purposefully by
His fleeting foot stirs the water as he plucks life from the grey day.
Soon, the water is still, the man in the black hat gone
In a molecular moment, a ripple in time.
On the Sunday streets of the stone city the water too is gone,
Seeped to the sucking, dark earth or risen, like a saviour,
Into the scudding sky
To fall on fields or the shimmering streets of another stone city.
(Words and picture copyright Steven E Lawson)
