The flashy, thunderous announcement
of your unexpected visit on the hot summer day
scares the crap out of the pigeons in the square -
cannoning them into the air -
but soon
they are diving and gliding as they discover
that you are cool as you high-heel dance
the tarry breath out of tired and dusty roads.
But in the grasses of the park the sudden deluge
causes workers to abandon their burdens, and confusedly
hasten to save nappied babies and the queendom from flooding.
The sun worshippers temporarily abandon their religion
as they unbow their heads for a sparkling new baptism
but as their fiery god reappears, you take flight,
confetting the air with your one-word calling card:
petrichor
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