August 18th, 19:34.
15 Degrees Centigrade, 1000 Millibars.
It starts when cycling between buildings
means cycling into the current.
And continues when, after too much coffee,
you are sucked backward from the street.
Seen from below, it’s a dust sheet
thrown over a model town.
protected from the eyes of visitors,
but left to mildew, to turn brown
where the occasional wind that slips from the seams
does not care to sweep nor clean.
It comes to conclusion when, directly over me,
the folds cannot be made to mean
either thick, distant, high banked clouds
or a thin, damp, summer shroud.
