Fall back under early stars.
The sea moves reflective waves,
pulsing onto sand, building like
engines of thunderous clouds.
Streams of people merge into
temporary spaces; strangers on
corners, a brief land of shoulders
staring straight ahead. A steady rain
clears the dust. Afternoon finds a
place before dusk. Footsteps
continue. Everyone owns a portion
of passing shadows. Night stars
open with a hollow roar.
Roger Singer 