Early blue-skied January
the sunlight sprays gold
the silver hair of static octogenarians,
white shop fascades turn pink orange
the puddles a golden syrup
For a few moments everyone
dreams of a new life agleam.
Suddenly a cloud covers the sun
and all present are cast in yet
another version of things
stark, tedious, hopeless
In the blink of eye
the universe does over
the pillars of the soul

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