Morning came
with
a scattering rain,
below
an enveloping darkness,
under the powerlessness
in society, and
other clichés.

(The advice was to hold on to Money tightly, but not to be stingy.)

Hear the
shining streets
under the streetlights,
the weepers pushed aside
in ways of thinking, built with
information, separation; and
irreparable differences.

(A rain-soaked rosehip bush hangs tired and temporarily beaten.)

Craging us
forward here in
the bare winter's grey
and
the pleasant slush.

Behind the
walls of words we sit
in cages.