Sunday


A yolk surrounded

By white hung

Above flanked by

Strips of clouds

Shards of sunlight

Like shredded paper

Grew long on

The shadowed street

Glints of sun

Danced on bumpers

Just like candlelight

Green and browned

Lawns appeared like

Sprawling checker boards

Birdsong returned calls

Outside my window

Like far-off radios

At long last

The sun returned

Here to Charlotte

Bringing with it

This Sunday morning