Yesterday
it rained,
and the pattering of neon on rippling sewer bound mirrors
made me wonder
The Color of December.

Yesterday
from some obscured corner,
slithered harmonious notes from a gnarled stranger,
and it made me wonder
The Hue of Suspended Song.

Yesterday
I heard the baker
hanging Christmas lights over the cobwebbed frame of his backalley door,
and it made me wonder
The Color of Light
when placed in a crevice of negligence.

Today
I walked along the straightedges of the sleeping city,
turning only at storm drains and street signs.
In the well of nighttime,
only moonlight braved the chattering dark,
and it made me wonder
The Flickering Shades of Hope
when placed in a blind man’s heart.

Angela Yang ’18