A soft glimmer shone from up
The lamp post- so tall and concrete,
Growing dimmer – though in leisure
Against the gilded hues of the day’s first light
Air ballooned up my lungs,
As I sucked it in fervently.
Pristine and fresh- smelt of nothing
But the damp earth beneath my feet.
The mossy green slurry splashed around
And dripped down the sides,
Spilling about the tall pail
Streaking its lackluster grey white.
Pitcher in my hand, I commenced the sprinkle
In a repetition and ritualistic procedure
Till the saturated ground gleamed at me –
Olive in an ostentatious glamor.
In a planned and practiced pattern
Speckling the wet canvas with dots,
Deciding the conceptual tessellation
Ground rice powder – I dribbled about.
