Ways of Providence
He stood, arms, legs, outstretched, seemingly biding
in that lambent light against, darkening grey
where summer heat and storm are oft colliding;
in some time, the rain will come, yet not today.
Ancient dust will settle on his naked breast
slowly bake between the Sun and human sweat;
as his shadow slowly shifts from East to West
he knows, again, his payers have not been met.
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