Umbrella Shadow Fog

Fog is a folded shadow cast on a concrete wall Dim lights fall to the dirty pavement drains As rain sweeps up around the gutter rims Along the open cracks a mist fills in In currents rippled, diamond tumbled days To the streets as steaming sheets of white Streams gather into water falls they carry off Thin channels form umbrella shadows black Mimic life, silhouette solid images of passers-by In puddles muddied at a time designated by the weather Prevailing conditions as predicted become a ripple A wrinkle as a shield deploys Informed by such knowledge born before the storm Precipitation bounces over plastic sheets of linen Stretched to their limits, thoughts, images Roll over a framework of skeletal remains Metal on plastic for their protection Dancing down about their feet are rubber boots Fog creates a film, a mist, a cloud on glass A gestured finger, invisibly smooth to its touch Rolls over wet forget-me-nots as surface tension Prints a name remembered only by the window Separates smoke from mirror In a single stroke it disappears Imagine that Tributaries run randomly, continue to the river Streams rush with white, clear as diamonds bright The sun is blotted out by gray meanderings Gathered false images shimmer in the mud As they become the puddles Rain separates, splits into currents Channels water falls into the ocean Cascading over umbrellas folded up And over linen as is there luck Streets receive so much information Feet still get wet beneath umbrellas progress Before the flood comes in to drown the innocent