Timmy Chong
SUNSHOWER SONNET
Road as a runway, stokes in the soapbox,
rinsing to the whistle from the windows.
And flickering reams of solar, clustering
senselessly, but a prism sending signals
into luminous bliss, until blocked by the
bridge, or cumulonimbus culled by fluff,
shoulder-to-shoulder like soldiers in line
for sunbathing. Saturation vapor relaxes
a rhythm like a summer told by timpani,
or a comet almost falling into orbit, and
either way it's gorgeous, much like a gift.
Much like I missile on the balcony, I may
shutter my eyes for the road, from miles
to closed. The rain runs da capo al coda.