Full-on rage of the sun,
without which we would not be live in
limb,
burns up the redbrick days in
succession
till paths are filled with browning
leaves.
What we call indifference
powers down at noon and sifts the
waters,
drifts the mind to unthought, the body to
shade.
Provider we accuse of cruelty
from all we feel, when stars come
forth
in tears and patches in city sky.
The sun lacks all respect.
In this soft moment when heat
subsides
we care for ourselves, we think
anew.
We can change nothing, reverence a glass of
water.
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