Hailstorm

 

 

White upon all,
The sun reflects,
Overflowing through the water,
Echoing within itself
And into nothing.

They are pearls, pearls descending,
Thousands upon the cobbled street,
Melting away like water,
So it rains a white drift.

Fragments, pearls, and silver spray,
Flow down the bent backs of those who pass.
Through the streets and broad avenues,
Over the rushing cars.

Everyone hurries in languid flight,
All sounds drowned beneath the white,
Never noticing the beauty
That calls to them from every side.