Urban Summer Morning Poem by Jojoba Mansell

A Summer Morning.
Grey tarmac bathed in gold,
cracked panes of glass with a diamond shine.
Clouds bowed, the sky now claimed by the Sun.
Crowning the horizon in hues of radiant gold,
enthroned, majestic above the grim streets,
vomiting chimney stacks,
hordes of hopeless, throngs of faithless
and those yet to succumb to dreams lost.
Apparitions trudge through traffic,
heat haze and exhaust fumes,
illusions of life in the smoke choked air.
A songbird's melody twisted, distorted,
drowned by the drone of convenient travel.
Streets paved in gold, silver, a kaleidoscopic rainbow,
a patchwork of litter, a mockery of confetti,
marking a matrimony of consumption and neglect.
Seeing enough, despairing from afar,
grieving for lost masses below, the sun retires.
Ribbons of grey cloud becoming leaden curtains,
weeping at the pantomime of mankind and nature.
Tears rain down, bombarding a landscape scarred,
threatening to wash away the filth, before being corralled,
ushered, confined to a subterranean labyrinth.
Tomorrow the Sun will rise again, shining, majestic,
radiating golden dreams of hope and an awakening.