A Kite Called Hope

Amid sagging, wise brick faces
on a high summer day
when umbrellas are unlucky
and the breezes won’t come out to play,
when a dollar short is un-fare,

When the sprinklers jet out warm water
disappointing and tasteless
and A.C. is as good as a faithless prayer,

A mirage in the distance
above the blacktop road
Shimmers – a flirt:

The infant arms
of a small sapling reach out
and you run
to the ephemeral bathtub bubble
a shadow is a shadow all the same.

The End

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