Strange effects of the light

Monday morning
at the bus stop
a February tree bare against the sky
like a leaf skeleton
an omen.
You may say -
who are you?
I don't even know.
Yet.

Strange effects of the light.

The cynical smile
the harsh sunlight
and the battered looks
even the bus is tired,
gets stuck behind a bread van.
Sucking out the passion,
the will to live.
Over Homebase two flags
Tibetan prayer flags flap
over desperate, searching shoppers.

Is the world really this miserable
or is it just a

Strange effect of the light?


Go back to Poetry and Prose Page
Copyright Rod White 2000