The lunar cycle left the night unlit,
As if too sad to view once more the scene.
Cloud hid stars.
Rain rendered dust to dirt.
It took the heartless sun to rise and show
Wet sheen of glory on the devil’s work.
Brick and stone,
Gain new exuberance.
Unwanted relocation and display.
In minutes all off history quite dismissed.
No wet awakening.
It pools in broken pots, and upturned shoes.
Small succour to the dog who scans the street.
His master to return.