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All day and into the next
all wasted agitation
receding and twice round and
down to the shops - the shaded
smells of detergent and noodles

all that summer, trees in phosphor
the light explodes and does not yield.
Back at dusk by the Kirk walls
I pour this petition, it's
gravity falling, through a

mute wall, a pencil thin mouth.
God does not pray for us
in his heaven dear fools,

the tree's hair quilts
rooftops beyond.
This starched sky and

pavement, the moon
and silence.

poem by Lelio S Shirra
Added by Poetry Lover
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