Spring haze making head,
as muscles waver.
Water fountains weep
for those burnt by the sun.
A tale of smoke,
flowing incessantly,
like rain through the streets.
Going…going…gone!
 
Back into life,
and my heart hardened –
I look to retrieve the world.
From an artist’s hand,
a patter of words and
sweet olives, start to blossom.
The birds soar again,
and the long nights,
are made shorter.
There is nothing else I can do.